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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29602020">Child of Light</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/tragic_unpaired_electron/pseuds/tragic_unpaired_electron'>tragic_unpaired_electron</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hollow Knight (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon typical character death, Canon-Typical Violence, Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Illustrated Fic, Illustrations, Moths, Past Child Abuse, Radiance Redemption, Redemption, The Pale King is a Bad Parent (Hollow Knight), if you like PK you wont like this, moth tribe - Freeform, no deaths that don't happen in canon, pure vessel is happy for once, radiance backstory, radiance says my child now, some of my thoughts on what went down between her and the lord of shades, the pure vessel becomes radiances adopted child</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 02:27:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>39,806</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29602020</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/tragic_unpaired_electron/pseuds/tragic_unpaired_electron</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Pale King tries to stamp out worship of the Old Light by any means possible, and in this AU, the Moth Tribe refuses to be converted and forget their deity. So the King is forced to take...extreme measures, and the Radiance loses her beloved children. She can't forgive herself for failing to save them. So when she ends up trapped in the mind of another doomed child, she decides to extend some compassion to the Pale King's offspring.<br/>Illustrations by me.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>The Hollow Knight | Pure Vessel &amp; Hornet, The Hollow Knight | Pure Vessel &amp; The Pale King, The Hollow Knight | Pure Vessel &amp; The Radiance, The Pale King &amp; The Radiance (Hollow Knight)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>679</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>431</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The beginning</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This was heavily inspired by a game mod called "Child of Light" that gives the Vessels Radiance powers. It got me thinking: what if the Radiance herself had taught the vessels her magic, and why?</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She knew she ought not to pick favorites, as a god. But the Moth Tribe had always been Hers.</p><p>It wasn’t that she didn’t like the others. The Mosskin were lovely folk, and truthfully She had been part of their creation. But they were more Unn’s children then Hers. The Mantis Tribe worshipped her, but they worshipped all nature. They had no more love for Her, the Light, than they did the acid, or the fungus, or the funny round creatures that made up their home. The Hive had more of a love for Light. They admired the glow and refractions that shown through their honeyed golden home. But their love was a distant sort. They respected her, but they did not need her. They could take care of themselves. </p><p>There were also, of course, the various species of nonsentient bug that inhabited Her land. But things that could not think-could not dream-could not enter Her realm of light. So She paid them little mind.</p><p>As for the folk of Deepnest...well. She supposed she ought to be more magnanimous, but She had to admit to Herself that She didn’t particularly care for them. Too many...legs. Two legs for standing on was just about the most She thought was necessary, and many of the Deepnesters had eight. Some had thousands. Just the thought made her shiver. What did a being need with so many damn legs?</p><p>But the moths...the moths were special. Pretty things, certainly. A respectable number of legs, and wings to boot. Soft wings, too, not like those of the Hive, but feathery and gentle with a lovely ruff. She didn’t have a form, exactly, didn’t really need one, but if she did...She thought She’d like to look like a moth.</p><p>It wasn’t just their appearances, though. The moths were...spiritual. They sought a world beyond the one their physical bodies occupied, sought to understand the universe at large. They called to Her, called out for Her to shed Her light upon them. And She did. She found them beautiful in that light. The moths were artisans, creative minds and clever fingers. They tamed the steel and crystal they mined from the mountains and shaped delicate works in the images they saw in dreams. They were devout pacifists as well, something She found oddly endearing. She personally had never seen a problem She couldn’t solve with a laser beam, but watching the moths with their trade and diplomacy was inspiring, in a funny sort of way.</p><p>So She became close to them. She flew with them in dreams, gave them Light in the darkness of their mines. She even offered Her magic to them-the ability to read dreams, to walk with the dead, to create a shield of Light. She expected their relationship to end there.</p><p>But deep below the moth’s homeland trouble was brewing. At the very base of the world, below crystal and fungus and even the spiders, lay a deep lake of inky darkness called the Void. The Void was not her enemy then--far from it, it had been the source of her birth. The Void had been a creative energy at that point, the black nothingness that all living things had once sprung from. </p><p>That would come to change. There was another tribe that lived in the Radiance’s land, one She cared for even less than the people of Deepnest. The tribe had no name, and though most of them were snails there were other, less identifiable creatures mixed in as well. They did not care for the Light; they crawled around in the dark and went so far as to practice strange rituals that kept them from dreaming. They worshipped the Void, the nothingness itself.</p><p>To Her, they were the opposite of the gentle Moth tribe. While they were spiritual and cerebral like the moths their magic did not derive from the dream realm but from the creature’s own souls. Unbeknownst to the Radiance, the nameless tribe had been experimenting with that magic, with the hope of using it not for art or communication but for conquest. They sought to weaponize the Void, and eventually, they succeeded. </p><p>She didn’t understand what was happening, at first. The Void, which had so long been content to percolate at the bottom of the world, had begun to...rise. First, it consumed the nameless tribe-their magic had created the monster but was unable to control it. The Ancient Basin filled with darkness, and then the Void travelled upwards.</p><p>The Hive and the Mantis Tribe were the first to alert Her. She heard their distress echoing over the realm of dream, and she could hardly believe what they told her. A creeping monster composed of darkness so thick that it smothered all light in its path was invading their lands. Some of them fought it, and died, but the others ran, fleeing sideways into Deepnest and the lands to the west. For a brief moment, the immediate crisis seemed averted--the monster, whatever it was, seemed to have difficulty crossing the destructive acid pools that surrounded the area. </p><p>But it began to spread upward instead, seeping through cracks in the rock until it crept up upon the lowest land owned by the Moths, the hallowed Resting Grounds, where the dead slept and the moths practiced their most sacred rituals. If the monster had been too much for the warlike Hive, it completely destroyed the pacifist moths. So they fled upward into their mines, further and further, until they reached the very top of Crystal Peak and there was nowhere else to flee to. The darkness surged around them and they cried out to Her, begging for divine intervention.</p><p>She was unsure of the right way to handle the situation at first. She did not wish to make an enemy of the Void, Her progenitor. What would happen, if the Void was killed? Could it even be killed? </p><p>With the Moths as Her inspiration, She sought a different way. They were both gods, after all, surely they could bargain. So She crafted Herself a form to take--not a mortal form, of course, merely a solidification of the dream--and She called the creature into her realm.</p><p>The Void should not have been able to enter. But the nameless tribe’s magic had given it a mind, something it had never possessed before. And She saw immediately that that mind was not one that could be reasoned with. It could dream, yes, it had thoughts and hopes and desires...but those desires were all of one thing: consumption. It longed to consume all of its former creation, to spread its darkness over the land and snuff out all living things. It wanted nothing else, and could not be persuaded: whatever the snails had done to it had turned it into an impeccable force of destruction. Of hunger.</p><p>So She went on the attack. She would have liked to have said it went well; that she had fought a brilliant, impressive battle and thoroughly trounced the interloper, as would have been befitting of Her station.</p><p>It did not go well. She barely survived.</p><p>The darkness burned Her. It was everywhere and nowhere, stabbing deep into her new flesh and disappearing like smoke when she countered. Soon it filled the whole of the dream, thick black liquid dripping down through the clouds and smothering Her light. She fought, fought like She never had before, but She fell. Encircled by chains of darkness, weaker than she had ever been, She waited to die.</p><p>But something reached her through the darkness. Not a light, but a voice. The moths, still huddled on the top of Crystal Peak, were praying. Praying to her, again, but it was different from before. Before, they had prayed for their safety. Now, they prayed for Hers. They saw Her struggle, heard Her pain, and they prayed that She would survive.</p><p>She did not know where the Void drew its power from. But Her power came from the dream, and all the minds contained within it. Those minds created the dream realm--they created it with all their hopes and prayers for a better world. Now that power, all that hope, was centered on Her, Her survival. </p><p>A rush of joy cut through Her despair, and She gathered all Her remaining strength into one last, desperate attack. It was not elegant. No glowing nails or delicate golden beams. Just a burst of raw emotion that tore out of Her like the sunlight itself.</p><p>The strange, dark incarnation of the Void could not take it. Her light burned it up, and all through the land the darkness broke apart, the disparate pieces sinking back down to the Ancient Basin. Not dead, not destroyed--perhaps the Void could not be destroyed, perhaps it was too much a part of the world. But that hateful, consumptive power was broken.</p><p>The light did not stop there. It shone across the sky, lighting up the surface, and dived down into the tunnels below. It caught in the crystals of Crystal Peak, changing their color permanently: where once they had been a dark purple, they now glowed a rich, bright magenta, and each carried a piece of Her power. </p><p>And still the light kept traveling. It was a beacon against the darkness, shining out over even the lands outside of the Radiance’s control. Though She did not realize it, it carried a message: that somewhere, a great power existed, and a great battle had just been fought.</p><p>And the white Wyrm, weak and dying and in search of a new home, saw the light and turned towards it.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The trap</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Things were different, after the battle. The moths had worshipped Her before, but now that She had saved them all, and now that She wore a moth’s form, they claimed Her as their own mother deity. They rebuilt their cities and holy places in the image of Her new form, which She had to admit was quite flattering. At the top of Crystal Peak, now the tribe’s most sacred place, they built Her an open-air temple, complete with a towering statue.</p><p>They even built a statue of Her useless brother, though it stood for only a few decades.</p><p>And things were good, for a while. She became...less attentive over the years. Immortality could be rather boring during times of peace, and She allowed Herself to grow complacent. She flew to the dreams of the lands outside Her realm, seeking new adventure, trusting that Her children would be safe in Her absence. Was it then Her fault, what happened next? Certainly. Certainly.</p><p>She did not even notice the Pale King at first, the misbegotten Wyrm who had declared himself lord of the land. Her first hint that something unusual was going on was the vague sensation that Her land’s population had somehow grown. When She looked harder, She found that it had virtually tripled overnight.</p><p>She investigated deeper, but only out of a sense of curiosity. She wasn’t afraid yet--She had gotten cocky in the years since the Void’s defeat, arrogant.</p><p>The new residents were not species She was used to--they were some of the creatures that previously had not been sentient, creatures She had once considered below Her notice. They had crawled on the ground with all legs, operating on instinct alone, not thinking or dreaming. Her moths told her a pale being had come to the land, and had somehow transformed these bugs, which now walked on their hind legs and spoke just like sentient creatures.</p><p>That spiked Her curiosity considerably, so She reached out to the dreams of these new bugs. To Her great surprise, She found their dreams difficult to access. She felt like she had to force Her way in, crawling through a space too small for Her. Worse, Her intrusion seemed to cause these new bugs some form of distress, so She hurriedly pulled away from them.</p><p>It was all very...odd. By all rights, She should be able to access the dreams of any living thing. But these bugs were not normal creatures, She reminded Herself--they were creations of this new king. Perhaps he had made them poorly, She thought. He would probably be horrified to know that they could properly dream. In any case, as the reigning deity of the land, She ought to make introductions to him anyway.</p><p>And that was the first sign that something was wrong. She could not access his dreams at all. He was dreaming, but he had sealed his dreams off from Her realm completely. She got an unpleasant, tingly feeling from that--it reminded Her of the nameless tribe, how they had used their strange magic to rebuke Her. But She was still too confident in Her own power to fear this new king. Not until the Moth Tribe began to disappear.</p><p>It was slow at first, and there was no warning--no urgent calls for Her aid in the dream realm. Just a gradual realization, on Her part, that fewer and fewer moths were entering the dream every night. The moths that remained were confused, uneasy. They spoke of how the Pale King, as he styled himself, had forbidden them from entering some areas of their own lands, land which he said was now called Hallownest. The bugs of Hallownest believed that the Pale King had created everything, something the moths knew not to be true. It seemed that he was refusing to let any moth unwilling to repeat the lie to enter his kingdom. That was concerning, and She once again tried to reach him. Since She could not reach him in dreams, She sent a diplomatic party of moths to speak with him in his home in the Ancient Basin. </p><p>They did not return. Instead, in their place, came soldiers. She heard the first desperate cries from her people as the Pale King’s soldiers--gigantic, hulking bugs armed with long nails--pushed into Crystal Peak, cutting down any moth that they found. Her people had no defense against them, and suddenly She understood why moths had been disappearing. She felt their deaths keenly now, the anguished, desperate cries of Her children as they fell to an overwhelmingly more powerful force. And She felt rage She had never known. </p><p>She attempted to pull the Pale King into Her realm, as She had done with the Lord of Shades. But She could not touch his mind, no matter what She did--his dreams were completely sealed off from Her. She realized with horror that it didn’t simply remind Her of the nameless tribe’s magic--it was their magic. She had thought all the nameless tribe long dead, but clearly the Pale King had found some remnant, and mastered their strange abilities himself.</p><p>So the Radiance, blind with fury and unable to lash out at the person who deserved it the most, turned Her attention to his subjects. The soldiers, killing her tribe. The attendants, serving the king. The civilians, who had no part in it at all. She would take them all from him.</p><p>She had little power to affect the physical world, aside from the whispering trees, but She invaded their minds. As She had suspected earlier, they didn’t take it well. Her light drove them mad, breaking the delicate consciousness that the Pale King had given them. Some just stopped where they were, unable to move. Others attacked each other. </p><p>She would like to have said, later, that She was only doing what She had to, that She felt no joy in it. But that was a lie. At last, She understood the Lord of Shades--its terrifying, bottomless appetite for destruction. She, too, wanted to destroy everything, to smash and burn until Her rage was sated. Each new horror She unleashed was a prayer against the sadness and guilt that gnawed at Her at what She had allowed to happen to Her own tribe.</p><p>The Pale King’s forces, what was left of them, pulled back. She did too, to some degree, though She took a vindictive joy in not completely allowing the plague to heal, reminding the Pale King of what She could do if She was pushed.</p><p>The Moth Tribe, meanwhile, had been decimated and forced back into a tiny section of the Resting Grounds. She grew the whispering trees all around the area, blocking off the caverns, and attempted to comfort Her people. But...it seemed as though they did not want to see Her. They dreamt, but they did not fly with Her in the dream as they had before. They did not pray to Her.</p><p>She tried to assure Herself that it was only a temporary state--they were still in shock over the loss of their lands and family. They would return to Her in due time, realize that She had once again saved them. But She could not shake the unpleasant, sickly feeling that Her gentle children were now...afraid of Her. Horrified by Her violent actions. It disturbed Her greatly.</p><p>So when She felt Herself being called again, when She heard an offering made in Her name, She went to it. She should have been more cautious. But the idea that Her tribe had...forgiven Her...it was too much. She raced towards the call, into the mind of the bug willing to say Her name.</p><p>Into a trap. The darkness closed around Her, and She realized instantly that this was no ordinary mind. The Void was here, somehow, surrounding Her. She tried to pull away but the darkness was too thick. And She remembered, for the first time in centuries, how much the Lord of Shades had frightened Her. How close She had come to death the last time they had fought, how She would have died if not for the Moth Tribe’s prayers. </p><p>And there was no one to pray for Her now.</p><p>She almost gave in to despair, almost allowed Her light to be snuffed out. But the Lord of Shades had possessed only one singular thought: the desire to consume. And there was a different emotion in this mind: relief. Palpable relief. And the words: </p><p>Father, I succeeded.</p><p>This was no Lord of Shades, but a pretender. Her courage returned to Her, and She used it to send out a blazing pulse of light. The darkness broke apart easily, far too easily, and in its place She could clearly see the would-be Shade Lord. It was a bizarre creature, tall and thin to the point of being ungainly, with a pale white face and a jet-black body. She couldn’t begin to guess its sex or even what species of bug it was, but She could see clearly the insignia on the silver armor it wore: the Pale King’s mark.</p><p>The rage She had felt since the first attack on the moths surged within Her. So this was the Pale King’s gambit: a pathetic trick. He wouldn’t even face Her himself! But if he wanted to throw another one of his subjects in Her path, She would happily destroy it.</p><p>She might have stopped there. She might have stopped thinking, stopped looking, content to accept the interloper as a disposable agent of the king. The thought would haunt Her for years to come.</p><p>But there was something so...familiar about this strange creature. As the light burned its disguise away, She felt its dawning sense of horror. It grabbed desperately at its absurdly long nail, perhaps trying to look intimidating. But She could see its hands shake.</p><p>What was it that it reminded Her of? And it came to Her: the moths, as they had been attacked by the King’s army. Shaking fingers desperately trying to pick up nails that they scarcely knew how to use. Desperate, scared people who knew they could not hope to win the fight ahead.</p><p>Desperate, She thought. That was a good word for the funny new creature. It had been desperate to contain Her, and now was desperate to fight Her. Was this really the might of the Pale King? Something wasn’t right.</p><p>“This is not your true form,” She said to the creature. She gathered Her light again, and sent out another blast. It would, She hoped, remove whatever artiface was lingering on it. </p><p>The light was blinding, and She heard a deep crack echoing out and thought She might have succeeded. She opened Her eyes to discover what manner of creature had been sent to fight Her, but She could not contain Her surprise.</p><p>“Only a child?” She sputtered out.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The child</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She felt like She had been slapped awake from a violent dream. The rage that had blinded Her for so long seemed to have gone cold, and She took in the sight in front of Her with only a faint sense of nausea.</p><p>The knight with its absurd, ungainly limbs and shining armor was gone, and in its place stood a tiny child. The child gazed down at its body, and She could feel terror resounding across its mind. Terror of Her? Likely. After all, She had been about to attack the child, only seconds before.</p><p>After all, She had killed children before, in Her fight against the Pale King. The feeling of cold nausea intensified.</p><p>As for the child, its terror only seemed to be growing, which was odd as She had made no move to attack. There was a fear of Her, certainly, but there was something else. A fear of...failure? She thought perhaps that was it. It was strangely difficult to understand the child’s emotions--something, perhaps the Void, was blocking them. But She was in its mind, it had invited Her in, and She had blasted away its previous disguises: it could not hide from Her completely.</p><p>And the fear was so all-consuming. It hummed in every fiber of the child’s being, and listening closely, She thought She could hear it: I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I tried; repeating as an endless mantra. The child, now less than one-fifth of its original size, struggled to pick up its massive nail. The sight was somewhat pathetic, and She realized what She was feeling now was pity. It had been a long time since She had felt pity. It had been a long time since She had cared about anyone but Herself, She realized.</p><p>Slowly, gently, She reached out a wingtip and scooped the child up, bringing its tiny form up to Her eyes. She still could not conceive of what it was--why it was here, how it had come to possess some of the powers of the Void. In Her wing, the child struggled a bit, then stopped, stooping down. It looked almost ill, and She leaned closer, worried.</p><p>She jerked back with a pained hiss as a dome of white light erupted around the child. It stung Her, and She quickly set the child back down. That was soul, She realized. The magic of the nameless tribe. There could no longer be any doubt: the Pale King had found them, and mastered their power. Perhaps that was how he had granted his subjects sentience in the first place. And now, he used that power against Her. That much She understood. But it still did not explain the child.</p><p>From a safe distance, She observed it struggling with its nail. She had to know, had to, and so She reached into its mind, as gently as She could.</p><p>They sat in a delicate sphere of dream, floating in a black ocean of Void. It was more, She realized, than the child simply having Void powers--it was filled with Void, made of it. No wonder She had been unable to guess its sex, or species. The creature had no organs at all: everything inside its black carapace had been wholly devoured by Void. How could such a creature even exist? How was it still alive? She dug deeper.</p><p>Memories rose from within the child’s mind. A shining white palace. A painful molt. A black egg. Children, climbing up a dangerous path out of the darkness, towards their fa...towards their fath…</p><p>No. No, surely not. Not even the Pale King would...would use his own children….</p><p>But the truth looked out at Her from the child’s mind. The black eggs, laid in the Void as the larvae inside developed, left to be penetrated by the darkness. It crept inside their shells and consumed the bugs they were supposed to have been, left behind something...hollow. She at last understood the terrible nature of the trap the Pale King had left for her. He had sacrificed his own children, thousands of them, in a twisted science experiment. He must have found out about her battle with the Void, how it had gone so poorly for Her. And he sought to recruit Her ancient enemy, but in a form he could control: that of his own tormented child.</p><p>The worst part was that it had almost worked. She had almost succumbed to Her despair and fear of the Void. But this sad little creature was no Shade Lord...the Pale King had not managed to replicate the pure destructive force the nameless tribe had made. This child felt relief, and regret. It felt fear, though it desperately did not want to. She could hear it even now: do not think, do not think, do not think. Do not think, and maybe this will still work. Do not think, and maybe he will still love you…</p><p>She jerked away from that thought. How vile. This little one, despite all that had been done to it, was well and truly a child. A child who loved its father. And for that father, it would deny its own mind, its own heart. How fucking sad. How fucking stupid. How fucking stupid they all had been. </p><p>Because this had been partly Her fault too, hadn’t it? She had thrown down the gauntlet with Her plague. She had committed atrocities and dared the King to do better. And he had.</p><p>You win, She thought, Her mind full of images of blank-eyed children with cracked shells. You win. I can’t go further than this. If we keep this up, we’ll tear the whole world apart.</p><p>She turned Her attention to the child. It was still chanting its bizarre mantra. “You know, when you think ‘do not think’ that’s still thinking, right?”</p><p>She felt bad about that almost immediately, as the child’s mind filled with something akin to panic. She could tell the little creature had spent its life cultivating a flawless sense of self-control and emotional repression. But that meant little here, in its mind, where She could hear its thoughts as though it was speaking aloud. Its mind now echoed with one word and one word only: failure. The word echoed through the dream.</p><p>“You didn’t fail!” She burst out, desperate to stop that horrible repetition. It worked, and the little creature was shocked out of its panic. It looked up at Her, and She lifted it up in her wingtip before continuing. “He failed, not you. You see, things without thoughts--hollow things, like he wanted you to be--cannot enter this realm, child. If you actually had been hollow, if you really hadn’t had any thoughts or hopes, we couldn’t even be having this conversation. You couldn’t be here. So, so you see,” She continued, a little desperately, “it was never your fault. This plan he had, it could never have worked. He was a fool from the start.”</p><p>Another dome of light blasted out from the child, but She was ready this time, and pulled Her head away so the magic only singed the tips of Her wings. That was something, at least--some feeling from the child besides fear. The angry child, seeing that its attack no longer worked, tried a different version: instead of a dome of soul, it shot daggers of the substance out of the palm of its hand. At full size, the attack must have been terrifying...but the daggers were only as large as the child’s tiny hands, and instead of hurting Her they bounced harmlessly off Her ruff like toothpicks.<br/>

</p>
<p>She couldn’t help it. She giggled. It was just too cute, and there had been so little to laugh about lately.</p><p>“Little one, you cannot hurt me with those tricks the King taught you,” She said softly. “Would you like me to teach you a real attack?”</p><p>That got its attention, and the child stared up at Her quizzically. She wasn’t sure why She’d offered--it did seem like a silly idea to teach Her enemy a better way to fight Her. But it would take the little one’s mind off of its endless mantra of failure, and maybe give Her a little time to think.</p><p>“Ahem,” She cleared Her throat dramatically, and a golden yellow ball of sunlight appeared in midair. The child looked alarmed, and leapt aside, but the ball took off in another direction entirely and splashed harmlessly into the ground. The child stared at the spot it had disappeared, looking confused. She didn’t like that: whoever had taught this child to fight had taught them to expect pain as part of their training. But She didn’t really want to think about that, so She filed that information away for the time being.</p><p>“When I want to do that,” She began, trying to get the child’s attention again. “I imagine a bright light, following my enemies until it burns them away. It takes confidence! You have to believe you can do it. And, hmm…” She looked at the child appraisingly. “Since I’m here in your mind, you should be able to.” She wasn’t actually sure about that at all, but even if it didn’t work, at least it would keep the child occupied. She set it back down and said brusquely: “Well, you’d better get training hadn’t you? You’ll never hit me if you don’t.”</p><p>She wasn’t sure if it would work, but the little child bent down again and seemed to be concentrating. She got the feeling its attention had strayed from Her, which was good, because She really needed to start looking for a way out of this mess. She couldn’t stay in this trap forever: the Moth Tribe currently stood undefended, save for the whispering trees. It was true their worship of Her had waned in the last few decades since She had unleashed Her plague, but that did not mean that the Pale King would leave them alone.</p><p>Concentrating, She reached out with Her mind to explore the walls of Her prison. The little bubble of dream She occupied was surrounded by Void, contained within the child’s physical body. Outside, She could sense some sort of physical confinement, but worse, She could sense the magic of the nameless tribe keeping Her inside. That was chilling, but not unexpected: if the nameless tribe, and therefore the Pale King, had been able to keep Her out of their own dreams, it made sense that they could also find a way to trap Her inside the child’s dreams. She could no more break those enchantments than She could break into the King’s mind. There would be no escape through that route. Indeed, She wondered, horribly, if escape was possible at all. Even if the child physically overcame its confinement and left the area where the spells had been cast...even if such a thing was possible...She doubted the spells would stop working. She would never be able to leave the child’s mind and enter the dream realm at large again.</p><p>The realization hit Her like a punch. She would never fly with Her children again, even if they would deign to see Her. She would never explore the lands outside of Hallownest again, never travel in the minds of other beings. She was trapped, forever…</p><p>Unless, She thought. Unless of course, there was another way. She would not be trapped inside the child’s mind if the child no longer had one. If it was to die, or go insane….That, She suspected, was why the Pale King had been so desperate to create a hollow, emotionless vessel to trap Her in, something without a true mind. Without a will that She could break. After all, She could easily see this child’s secrets, its memories, its fears...each one was a potential crack in the prison wall. If She could break the child’s will, no amount of spellwork on the Pale King’s part could contain Her forever.</p><p>The thought sickened Her greatly. If only the creature who She was trapped with wasn’t a child...if it really had been a knight of the Pale King, an adult who had chosen to serve him, it would be so much easier. But this little one...abused and lonely and so obviously forced into this role...could She really do something so cruel?</p><p>But could She leave her moths to die? There were children among them, too, and they depended on Her protection. If She could not escape this prison, they would not survive the Pale King’s wrath…</p><p>The conundrum made Her head hurt, and She went back and forth, back and forth...one life for a hundred...She had just sworn to Herself She would commit no more atrocities...but was it not also a sin to leave Her people to die…?</p><p>She was so busy with those thoughts that She failed to notice the little ball of sunlight until it was right in front of Her. It was a tiny little thing, smaller than the child’s soul daggers, and it extinguished itself against Her face with a harmless pfffft.</p><p>She whirled around. The child was standing stock still, expressionless, with no indication that it felt anything at all. But She could feel a giddy delight resounding through its mind, with the words: IdiditIdiditIdidit…</p><p>For the second time, the Radiance gave a very un-godlike giggle, and lowered Herself until Her gaze met the child’s. “Yes, little one!” She fought to keep Her voice level. “You did it! I’m so proud of you.”</p><p>The child gave no outward sign it had heard, but She felt a surprised, warm glow filter through the darkness of its mind. She wondered if anyone had ever praised it before.</p><p>More tiny sunbursts filled the air, glowing like fireflies. She smiled, though inside, She felt like screaming. She had to make Her decision now, before the King had the chance to go after the Moth Tribe, but She knew at that moment it had been made for Her. She couldn’t destroy this child. She couldn’t break its heart. Not even for the moths.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” She whispered to no one, as the child reached its tiny hands up to grab at the sunbursts. She knew in Her heart that She would never leave this place, and Her moths were on their own. In that way, She supposed, the Pale King had defeated Her.</p><p>The Radiance, ruler of the dream, master of the light, protector of the moths, was finished, and the world would continue without Her.</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The question</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>“A child weaned on poison considers harm a comfort.”-Gillian Flynn</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Time passed, though She could not have said how much. She measured its passing not in years, but progress: progress with the child. She had begun to devote Her time (not that there was really anything else to do with time, here) to helping the child unlearn the cruelty it had been raised on.</p><p>The first task was convincing it She was not its enemy. Given that the child had been raised for the sole purpose of defeating Her, it wasn’t an easy task. Still, She had all the time in the world and the child was a captive audience. She learned the hard way, early on, that laying any blame for their situation at the foot of the Pale King was the wrong way to go; that drew the child’s ire. The poor little thing, for all that had been done to it, still loved the King like a father. Attempts on Her part to explain why they had been fighting ended, more often than not, with soul domes exploding in Her face. </p><p>In the end, the solution had simply been for her to exist around the child while being kind to it, to prove with Her actions what She said with Her words. The child didn’t seem to know what to do with kindness, at first: patting its head with a gentle wingtip or asking it how it felt seemed to cause it to freeze up. She understood why, of course.</p><p>She could see its memories: watching its siblings being cast aside into the darkness for their imperfection, knowing the same thing could happen to it if it showed any emotion. Not to mention the fact that it had been “taught” to fight by simply being brutally attacked, repeatedly, by the Kingsmoulds; or the way its shell had been shattered multiple times to force it to molt, to achieve the impressive size it had possessed before. Throughout its entire life it had been a thing, to be used, and the idea that someone wished to care for it and treat it like a person was anathema to it. But that only made Her want to care for it more.</p><p>She had never raised a child, of course, but She had watched how the moths raised theirs: surrounded by the softest pillows, with plenty of light and music, allowing them to test their abilities safely and encouraging them when they succeeded. It seemed like the opposite of how the Pale King raised children, so it seemed like a good idea to Her. So She kept pushing, asking the child how it felt and trying to make it feel comfortable and safe.</p><p>There was no great moment of epiphany, no tearful embrace wherein the child renounced its father and pledged its love to Her; nor was She expecting such a thing. But She got fewer soul globes to the face, as time went on, until one day She realized it had been a long time since Her “enemy” had tried to hurt Her. They still continued their “fighting lessons” though it was more a fun diversion than anything else. So far, the child had mastered sunbursts, walls of light, and spike traps, though it seemed to have developed a bit of a mental block when it came to Her light nail attacks. They trick-sparred, now, each attack deliberately missing, more for the light show than anything else. It had been a long time since the child had used soul attacks at all.</p><p>When they weren’t sparring, She liked to tell stories. That was an important part of moth childrearing, telling the stories of the tribe to the new generation. She did not, for Her part, speak of the moths. That wound was too fresh. But She told the child stories of the world at large, all the places outside of Hallownest that She had travelled to, in the minds of other bugs. </p><p>At first, the child had not wanted to listen. It would sit with its back stubbornly towards Her as She spoke. But gradually, it had turned around, paying more attention. The stories seemed to be helping it get over some of its mental conditioning. Where once the child had eschewed all outward displays of emotion, it had begun to react to the stories now. Its mask-like face was too stiff to move much, to smile or laugh, but it showed appreciation in other ways. When She got to a happy or funny part of the story, it would bounce up and down or wave its tiny fingers in the air delightedly. When She got to a sad or suspenseful part, it would clasp its ankles tightly and rock back and forth in its seat.</p><p>The biggest thing, She thought, was that the child had started speaking. Not merely allowing Her to overhear its thoughts, but directing them at Her. It was still a little hesitant, and they still avoided certain...topics.</p><p>At least, until one day.</p><p>She was in the middle of one of Her favorite stories, about a colony of funny little creatures called termites, who built intricate homes from decaying plant material. She had met them just as a terrible rainstorm had caused floodwaters to surge around their home, destroying the delicate structure and leaving them stranded. Their courage and unity had charmed Her, and She had hoped the child would feel the same. But all through the story, it had seemed fidgety and restless. As She approached the climax of the tale, She couldn’t help but notice that it wasn’t making its little anxious hand movements.</p><p>“And ten of the largest termites managed to grab handholds in the rock, and clung to it to avoid being swept away. Then they reached out their other hands, and grabbed the smaller termites as they floated by. They all clung together, keeping together even as the waters rose…”</p><p>(Why?)</p><p>She stopped. The child was looking up at Her. It had never interrupted Her before.</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>(Why did they take their hands off the rock? Wouldn’t that make them more likely to lose their grip?) The child asked in its odd, echoey voice.</p><p>She cleared Her throat. “Well...because those other termites were their family. And they decided, I guess, that it was worth risking their lives to try and save the others. Because they loved each other.”</p><p>(Oh.) the child replied. Then...</p><p>(My father wasn’t like that, was he? Even though we were family.)</p><p>The silence sat heavily on them. It was the first time the child had ever spoken of the Pale King. </p><p>“I...I don’t know,” She said at last. “Family is complicated sometimes…” But you have me, She wanted to say, but wasn’t sure that She should.</p><p>The child looked down, as if deep in contemplation over the nature of its feet. She cast about for something to say, unsure how they had gotten here. Things had been so easy between them lately, but the atmosphere suddenly felt as tense as it had been the first day they met.</p><p>(Do you have family? Real family, like the termites did?)</p><p>“I…I did, yes.” The words stung in Her throat.</p><p>(What happened to them?)</p><p>“I…” She couldn’t speak, but the truth ran through Her mind anyway. I neglected them. I wasn’t there when they needed me. I scared them so bad they didn’t want to see me. I left them to die because I couldn’t… couldn’t…</p><p>Something small wrapped itself around Her ruff. She looked down in surprise to see the child leaning deep into her side. Not quite a hug--She doubted the child even knew what that was--but simple pressure. </p><p>(I’m sorry.)</p><p>“It’s okay,” She whispered, stroking its head with a wingtip. It had never touched Her before, never shown affection like this, but it was oddly comforting. “Why all these questions, little one?”</p><p>In answer, the child pushed its head deeper into her fur. She stroked its head patiently, waiting for it to speak, but it did not.</p><p>Instead, a memory filled Her mind. She had seen this memory, its first memory, before, but She had never looked closely at it or seen it in its entirety. It horrified Her too much. But the child wanted to show Her something, so She watched silently.</p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. The memory</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Through the child’s eyes, She saw the hatching: the great black egg cracking open in the Abyss, the King’s children crawling out. Some disappeared into the darkness, others stood mutely, silently. A few, including the child She knew, simply huddled together in the dark.</p><p>And then, from far above them, a thin line of white light shot across the darkness. The children looked up, at the only light they had ever seen, and began to climb.</p><p>The path, interspersed with spikes and little crawling creatures, was dangerous, and some of the children died on the way, shells cracking apart and inky black spirits drifted out. At one point--and the Radiance gave a sharp, nervous gasp--the child stumbled, tiny feet losing purchase on the smooth rocky surface. She watched in horror as it carened backwards, unable to catch its balance, teetering on the edge of a row of shining pale spikes. Its arms reached out desperately--</p><p>A small hand grasped it. One of the other children had stopped its upward climb and reached out to take its flailing hand, and now, it gently pulled the child back on to the path. The Radiance gazed curiously at the second child. It was nearly identical to Her own (as She had come to think of it) but where Her child had thick horns with a ragged edge, this one’s were small and smooth, forming a little U above its head. The two children looked at each other for a moment, and if anything passed between them, She could not perceive it. Then their gaze broke and both children began to climb again.</p><p>The rest of Her child’s journey was, thankfully, less eventful, though She could not help but notice that broken shells were falling by at a frankly alarming rate. Something very dangerous must be ahead, and while She knew the eventual outcome of this memory--the child had survived, after all--She couldn’t help but feel nervous.</p><p>And then the light grew brighter, and the child reached a metal catwalk at the top of the cavern. She sighed in relief--whatever terrible hazard the other children had fallen to, Hers must have missed. At the end of the catwalk stood an open door, and in front of the door stood--</p><p>Him. She fought the rage welling up inside Her. This was only a memory, after all. He stood framed in the light, practically glowing against the dingy cavern in his clean white robe. Another child, this one with stubby, folded horns, stood in front of him. As She watched, he reached down and took it in his hands.</p><p>The stubby-horned child reacted to the touch, reaching out to its father’s face. For a second, the moment was almost sweet. But then--</p><p>“No,” came the King’s voice, and his long pale hands reached out and snapped the child’s neck.</p><p>“NO!” The Radiance was unable to stop Her anger this time as the King tossed the broken shell pieces back into the Abyss. She had known the other children had been cast aside, but to see it happen so coldly….Was that how She had been, when She spread the plague to innocent bugs? So concerned with Her own goals that their suffering became meaningless? It had felt like justice at the time. It looked so different from the outside…. And now Her child was stepping forward. The King again reached out to it, and She held Her breath in horror as the child stood stock-still. </p><p>The King inspected the child appraisingly, though what he was looking for She could only guess. The child seemed to pass the initial round of inspection, so the King took a series of delicate silver instruments from the pockets of his robes: measuring tools of all sizes, strange lights that he shined into the child’s hollow eye sockets, and a pair of silver bells whose ring was oddly chilling. Somehow, by some miracle, the child passed every test, and She let out a sigh of relief. She did not know where the King’s assessment had gone wrong. She could only be glad that it had.</p><p>“Finally,” he whispered. “No cost too great.” It sounded, then, like he was trying to convince himself, a feeling which, unfortunately, She thought She understood. </p><p>“No mind to think. No will to break. No voice to cry suffering.” You’re wrong, She thought. “Born of God and Void. You shall seal the blinding light that plagues their dreams. You are the Vessel. You are the Hollow Knight.”</p><p>The King pulled a bundle of gray fabric from its white robes, and placed it around the child’s shoulders, then turned back towards the light. The child moved to follow them, and then suddenly, both of them stopped.</p><p>The Radiance peered through the darkness, trying to find the cause, and then She saw it: the other child, from before, with the U-shaped horns. It had evidently come up behind them but misjudged the jump to the catwalk. It clung to the edge by only the tips of its dark fingers, most of its body hanging over the dangerous pit below.</p><p>The Pale King looked at it through the corner of his eye, then turned away. “I have no need for two. Come,” he said to the child behind it, and he stepped through the doorway.</p><p>Seconds passed like centuries. Her child stood still on the catwalk, between the King and its sibling. She could not hear its thoughts, in the dream, but She did not need to to understand the conflict plaguing it. Behind it, the other child reached out a hand to it. Ahead of it, the King was walking away, and any second now he would look back and see the child, see that his new knight was not truly hollow…</p><p>Her child turned and walked through the door as it shut, and in the shrinking crack of white light, She saw the other child lose its grip and fall…</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. The idea</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The memory faded. The light of the dream was almost blinding after such deep darkness, and for a few minutes, they sat in silence.</p><p>(They were my family.)</p><p>(I let them all die in the dark.)</p><p>“Oh, no, little one,” She bent down and scooped the child up in Her wings. “No, no, it wasn’t your fault.”</p><p>“It shouldn’t have been your responsibility. You should never have had to make that choice, not as a child. Your father…” She paused. “Your father and I both did bad things, little one. We took out our rage on smaller creatures. We forgot they had feelings, too. This was...everything was our fault.”</p><p>She felt the child shake against Her and realized with a start that it was crying. Thick black tears oozed out of its eyes as it clung to Her. She couldn’t think of what else to say, so She cradled it tightly and sang in a soft voice, a song the moths sang at funerals. The moths believed that nothing that lived could ever truly be gone, that the spirits of the dead watched over them, and the song spoke of the peace that those spirits must feel.</p><p>(Is it like that for us?) The child spoke, head still buried in Her fur. (I saw their souls. They were black like the Void, and they fell back down into it. Are they really at peace?)</p><p>“I...I don’t know,” She admitted. She wanted to say something comforting, but felt She ought to be honest here. They shared a mind, after all, the child could likely tell if She was lying. “I have never met a creature like you before, so I can’t say what happened when your siblings died. They may have returned to the Void, to nonbeing...I imagine that would be peaceful, in its own way...”</p><p>(What if they’re still there in the Abyss?)</p><p>(What if they’re trapped?)</p><p>The words carried a cold, guilty sort of fear with them, and She realized that that singular thought had been on the child’s mind for a long, long time. How it had kept the thought from Her--how deeply buried in its mind it must have been--She did not know. But the second it spoke the thought aloud, the child’s fear rose to a fever pitch in their shared mind. The power of the fear warped the dream world around them, turning the soft golden clouds an ugly orange and black. She realized with horror that for the first time in centuries, the prison walls were cracking: this fear, this guilt, had the power to destroy the child’s mind if She let it.</p><p>“Little one, calm down...it’s okay…” She tried to whisper comforting words, but the child was no longer paying attention to Her. Its mind was consumed with panic, as though saying its fear aloud had made it come true. It reminded Her terribly of the first time they had met, when the child’s only thoughts had been the word failure, over and over and over…</p><p>“STOP!” She roared. The world shuddered around them, as the fury in Her voice surprised them both. She blinked in the sudden silence, then said in a softer voice: “please, little one, I don’t know. I wish I could tell you that they were alright. I wish I could...go there, and find them for you…”</p><p>And She stopped, very suddenly. An idea had just occurred to Her, and She wondered why She had not thought of it before. Perhaps because it had not been necessary until this moment: after all, the child was safe here, and up until today, it had been happy here.</p><p>But there was no reason why the child had to stay here if it didn’t want to.</p><p>“Listen to me very carefully, little one,” She raised the child up so She could meet its eyes. “Do you...do you want to go find them? Do you want to know what happened to them?” </p><p>It looked up at Her and slowly nodded. She shook Her head. “I mean...do you really want to know, even...even if it’s bad? Even if you can’t help them, if you’re too late? Is it still worth knowing?”</p><p>Silence, then…</p><p>(Yes.)</p><p>(But...how?) There was trepidation, but also something like hope in its voice. (This place is a prison?)</p><p>“It’s a prison for me,” She replied. “It wasn’t built to contain you...not as you are now. Tell me, little one, what holds you here?”</p><p>It hesitated, concentrating. (A seal. With magic from three of the King’s advisors…)</p><p>“You fly one wingbeat at a time, child,” She interrupted with a curt wave of Her feathers. “Let us take care of the most immediate concerns first, then we will attend to the seal. First: what immediately binds you?”</p><p>(Chains.) This She had suspected, though it made Her skin crawl all the same. (There’s this silver armor I was wearing...it connects to the chains somewhere I can’t see…)</p><p>“Can you wriggle free at all? Even a limb?”</p><p>The child shook its head. (It's tight. I can’t reach my nail. If...if I could just get my right arm out…) It wiggled around, and She felt a bright, sharp pain lance through its shoulder.</p><p>“Don’t do that, you’ll tear that arm off,” She said quickly.</p><p>“There’s got to be another way...I refuse to be outsmarted by the wyrm a second time…” Not after all the things he did to you, She thought. All those nasty memories She had seen in its mind passed by Her eyes: the Abyss, the Kingsmolds, all those painful molts…</p><p>“That’s it!” She slapped a wing against the ground as the child looked up excitedly. “You’re much larger in the real world, because he forced you to molt so many times! You--” She gestured at it eagerly-- “ought to be much smaller! Maybe small enough to slip out of that armor!”</p><p>The child clapped its hands together, stubby fingers waving. (I never liked being that big. It was hard to walk. But how do I get smaller?)</p><p>“Hmm, that’s the question. For a normal bug, it wouldn’t be possible. But you’re Void inside, and Void is the most malleable substance in the world.” She considered what She remembered about the Void, and what She had witnessed of the molts in the child’s memories. “If we could get you to molt one more time...but it wouldn’t be the same as the other times,” She added quickly. “It wouldn’t involve growing a new body, just sort of...removing a layer of your current one.”</p><p>“I think,” She started, “I think you should be able to trigger it yourself.”</p><p>(I don’t...what do you mean?)</p><p>“The Pale King didn’t teach you much about the Void, did he? But I know the Void. It’s...creative. It’s always changing, always forming new things. And it’s part of your body. You may not have been taught to use it, but that doesn’t mean you can’t.”</p><p>The child cocked its head quizzically, and She continued. She was largely making it up as She went along, but She still felt there was a chance Her improvised theory was correct. “Try thinking about your body. Your physical body. Think about what size you want it to be. Do you want to be this little?”</p><p>A pause, and the child shook its head. It gave a little hop, and at the top of the jump it waved its hand above its head to indicate a size somewhere between its physical form and its dream state. “That should be enough to slip the armor,” She nodded, though secretly She was a little sad that the child did not want to stay at its current--adorable!--size. Ah, but that was its choice, and She would respect it. “Think hard about it. Imagine your limbs that long, your waist that thick. Imagine the Void inside you forming that shape, and your old carapace falling gently away.”</p><p>She waited as the child nodded, and it bent down to concentrate. Its mind was focused, for the first time in years, on the world outside the dream. Through their connection, She could at last see the place She had been held prisoner in: a dark, dingy circular chamber, crisscrossed by silver chains.</p><p>For a while, nothing happened, and She had begun to wonder if perhaps their goal was impossible after all. Then, suddenly a loud crack tore the air. She had heard that sound before--the first time She had met the child, when Her burst of light had torn away its knight disguise. That was followed by a series of smaller, more delicate cracks, and She felt the child’s body sink in its armor as a piece of chalky black material sloughed from its chest.</p><p>“Yes! It’s working, keep going!” She cheered. There were more cracks, and suddenly the world gave an almighty lurch as the child slid out of its armor and crashed down to the floor.</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. The seal</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>For a second, She was consumed with joy--they had done it, after so long, the child was free--but just as quickly as the joy had come, it was replaced with pain. The child hadn’t fallen from a great height, but its newly-molted legs had crumpled underneath it and one now pointed in what She was sure had to be a wrong angle. She hadn’t thought that a body made of Void could...atrophy...but the long confinement had robbed the child of its strength and it could not catch itself from the fall, or stand. It lay crumpled on the dark floor, as perfectly silent and composed as it had been every time it had been injured in front of the Pale King, but She could feel the agony reverberating through its mind.</p><p>“Oh no, okay, okay, it’s going to be alright, little one,” by the Void, this was frustrating. She had no power to affect the child’s physical surroundings, here, trapped in its dreams. If only She could pick it up and carry it...or at least do something to fix that leg. She tried to remember what the moths did for injuries like this: straighten the limb, wrap it with something tight...but that thought was interrupted as She realized with horror that the child was moving. It had begun to crawl, inch by painful inch, towards a small opening in the wall ahead.</p><p>“What are you doing? Stop, you’ll hurt yourself more!” She cried desperately.</p><p>Its reply came to her sounding odd and muffled, as though it was yelling to Her from far away: (Just...outside...bench...gotta get to…)</p><p>She blinked in confusion. What did a bench have to do with anything? But the child was still moving, desperately. She watched through its eyes as it wriggled through the opening. They emerged in a large, dark room, and even in Her panicked state She registered the purpose of this place: this was the bait that had drawn Her in. All around them in the dark stood glowing white glyphs that were achingly familiar: they were the same type that the moths had carved into Her temple atop Crystal Peak, the same Her people used to call Her. She felt a dull anger at that: Her own people’s work being twisted to use against Her.</p><p>Ahead, a shape was slowly materializing out of the darkness: what looked like the broken pieces of a large black egg, and in between, a low seat. It gave the impression of a completely normal bench, and the Radiance could not imagine what drove the child towards it so relentlessly. What little strength the child had was rapidly waning as it dug its fingers into the dirt and pulled its body forward, dragging its broken leg behind it. It reached the bench at last and raised its shaking arms as if to pull itself up onto it.</p><p>“Little one, stop,” She begged. “You must lay still, if you fall again…”</p><p>(Please, just...trust…) She wanted to, but She could not see how this wouldn’t end in more pain for the child. She closed Her eyes as it slowly, agonizingly, pulled itself onto the bench…</p><p>And suddenly, the pain disappeared. She felt strength slowly filling the child’s body, like water from a well, and heard a crack as the broken leg inexplicably righted itself. Oh, no, She could feel it now: this was no ordinary piece of furniture. It was infused with the magic of the nameless tribe. While She suspected it would have no effect on most bugs, it would provide comfort and healing to those made of Void.</p><p>(My father built these. In his workshop, in the palace.) The child’s voice sounded clearer now, as it lay slumped across the bench. (I only ever saw a few, but he placed them all over the kingdom.)</p><p>Now that was interesting. She couldn’t help but wonder why the Pale King would do such a thing, especially for the child that he treated like little more than a tool. It was...an odd gesture, but one that was almost kind. She didn’t know what to do with the information, so She filed that away, too.</p><p>Feeling had returned to the child’s limbs, and under the influence of the bench’s magic She could sense its new molt hardening and setting. Still, the child remained slumped over the bench, staring silently into the darkness. It had begun to twirl its new fingers in the air in a distracted sort of way, a clear signal that something was bothering it. She waited for it to speak.</p><p>(I’m afraid.)</p><p>“Of what?”</p><p>(Of what’s out there. I never saw most of it. Hallownest, I mean. And it’s been so long. I’m sure everything’s different now. So it’s all new.) The child paused. (I’m not sure I can do this alone.)</p><p>“You aren’t alone, little one. I’m right here with you.” I couldn’t leave even if I wanted to, She thought but did not say. But the child only shook its head. </p><p>She sighed. Hadn’t She just been thinking how upsetting it was to watch the child struggle, and be unable to help? She couldn’t even give it a hug--its tiny form  in the dream world had faded away as soon as it had moved back into its body in the real world. If it was in danger, or hurt--even if it was just alone and in need of comfort--She was little more than a voice in its head. </p><p>“Child,” She said, after a long, uncomfortable pause. “Did I ever tell you about my younger brother?”</p><p>(No...is he the family you lost?)</p><p>“Ahhh, well…” She cleared Her throat a little uncomfortably. “No, he’s still very much alive. We just don’t talk. Ever, really.” It said plenty about their relationship that Grimm had not so much as attempted to contact Her during Her long period of incarceration. She doubted he even knew.</p><p>“I am the god of dreams, and he was once the god of nightmares,” She began. “We both...neglected our duties, to some extent. You know already how I liked to travel, visiting other lands through the minds of bugs. But he wanted more than that. He wanted to experience the things mortals did, to walk among them, to be part of the real world. So...he became mortal.”</p><p>The child’s head jerked up in surprise. (How could that be?)</p><p>“He created a body for himself. You see, a long time ago, the Moth Tribe made a statue of him, an image created from the form they dreamed. It was an object of power, imbued with their magic. He used it...created a ritual that allowed him to create a mortal form based upon it. He was always good at that, inventing new little spells…” She trailed off. “Anyway, the point I’m trying to make is that the Moth Tribe created a statue of me as well, and assuming it’s still standing…” She could only pray that it was. “Assuming it’s still standing, we can use it to...bring me into the real world.” She tried not to elaborate on what exactly that would mean, but unfortunately the child caught on anyway.</p><p>Its grip had abruptly tightened on the bench. (But if you become mortal, doesn’t that mean you would die someday? I don’t want that!)</p><p>She sighed. “I...don’t know exactly what it would mean, little one. My brother is still very much alive, but I have not seen him in centuries, so I can’t say exactly how healthy a body created by those means would be. What I can tell you is that...that I have lived longer than any other creature I have ever met. I have seen the rise and fall of empires. I have seen miracles and tragedies. I have...met you. If being able to walk beside you means that I may die, then I will die with no regrets, little one.” The child’s voice came again with protests. “I will hear no more about this matter. This is my decision, and the more I think about it...the more I like it. I think I should very much like to see the world with you, child.”</p><p>(...)</p><p>(Thank you.)</p><p>She nodded. “Now, let us leave this place. If we are going to make me a body, then we have quite a lot of work ahead of us. What is it you were telling me about this seal?”</p><p>The child pushed itself up off the bench and began to walk forward. She was pleased to see that it was walking quite well with its new legs. (The seal...three of the king’s advisors sacrificed themselves for it. Their dreams give it power. Together, they form the door to this place.)</p><p>“Dreamers? I know that spell. Moth magic.” How utterly presumptuous of the King, She thought. “But I suspect there is more at work. He wouldn’t be so foolish as to bind me using only my own power.”</p><p>(You can check it yourself. We’re almost to the door.) And, indeed, She could see it: the faint shimmer of essence ahead in the dark. The child stepped up to it, reaching its long fingers into the crack around the edge of the circular door, trying to pry it open. Nothing happened, and neither of them were surprised.</p><p>“I sense it here, mingling with the dream...soul, the magic of the nameless tribe.” It was a prickly feeling, and She didn’t like being close to it. It felt similar to the curse that bound Her to the child’s dreams.</p><p>(Can you break it?)</p><p>“No. But, I suspect, you can.” The child balked at that, so She continued. “The true power of this seal is the mix of magic. Dreamers make for powerful barriers, but if it was just them, I could break the seal. But I don’t understand the magic of soul.”</p><p>“You, on the other hand, were raised on it. And you’ve learned so effectively to use my magic as well. The Pale King, the nameless tribe, the Void...the Old Light...you are a student of the four most powerful entities to ever walk this land. If anyone can break this seal, it’s you.”</p><p>She got a very odd feeling from the child’s mind. She suspected that it would be blushing, were it capable of such a thing, and She did Her best to hide Her amusement. After a moment, the child nodded.</p><p>(I will try. But I don’t know where to begin. I don’t even know if I can use light magic in the real world.)</p><p>“Then let’s start with that. Just like how you learned my magic in the first place,” She replied. “Try imagining a sunburst, burning through the door.”</p><p>The child nodded again, and knelt down to concentrate. Nothing happened for a long time as it sat and contemplated the task. For Her part, She simply tried to stay quiet and out of the way to avoid distracting it. After a while, She got very bored of that and so began amusing Herself by counting the clouds in the dream. She had just gotten to cloud number 872 when a burst of golden light appeared in the air above them. It took off with a flash of color and smashed into the seal. </p><p>The door rattled on its frame, but held, and an intricate white pattern appeared over its dark surface. As the light faded, it seemed that no damage had even been done, and She could sense the child’s frustration. “Now we see what light magic can do,” She said soothingly. “And we knew from the start that light alone wouldn’t be enough. The magic of the seal is complex, so our attack must be equally complex.”</p><p>Another nod. The child changed tactics, and after a few moments of concentration managed to summon one of the exploding soul globes that had singed Her feathers so often in the past. The door groaned, and instead of the pattern, an image of three white masks appeared. “Ah! The dreamers! We see now the two components of the seal,” She clapped Her wings together excitedly. “You see, child, how each one protects the other? We must shatter both at once!”</p><p>(Both at once…) The child shook its head. (How do you do two different spells at the same time?)</p><p>“Well, I don’t. I can’t. But you’re the nexus of two different schools of magic, child. Soul and light both come easily to you. Make them work together.”</p><p>(Work together...I will try.) She thought She sensed amusement in its voice. It bent low again, and She could see the images running through its mind: trick-sparring with Her. Fighting the Kingsmolds. Listening to the Pale King and the Radiance both speaking to it of the nature of magic…</p><p>Something else appeared in the air above them. It was not a sunburst, or a soul globe, but something that, She suspected, had never been seen in their world before. It was a clear golden sphere, so delicate looking that it could have been made from spun glass. Inside, something fiery and white-hot pulsed with power. The sphere hung in the air for a second before accelerating rapidly towards the door. It impacted the seal not with a crash, but a single high, eerie note, like a bell. </p><p>Patterns of light flashed over the surface of the door: the masks, the intricate lines. But they began to melt into each other, flashing bright and then darkening. The door itself seemed to be moving, shuddering back and forth like the wall of a beating heart. The child raised its arms to its face and backed away just in time as deep cracks split the surface of the seal. A second later, the door shattered like glass, showering the place they had been sitting with chunks of white-hot rock.</p><p>They were silent for a second, the child still holding its arms protectively over its face. But through the gaps between its fingers, they could both see the light flooding in. Not the bright light of magic, but a soft, natural glow. </p><p>The child took one step forward, then another, and another, and the two of them passed the threshold of the prison and back into Hallownest.</p>
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. The crossroads</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They found themselves in a small, temple-like space, gently lit with dozens of candles. The child wound its way through the glowing torches, towards an archway that led into darkness. </p><p>The cavern outside was large and still, and they both turned curiously to see what sort of building their prison was. It was a massive, domed structure with spikes coming off of the top.</p><p>(I remember this from when they brought me here. I thought it looked like a bug.)</p><p>“That’s because it is a bug,” the Radiance replied. “I know where we are now. I remember this place. It’s the shell left behind by one of the nameless tribe.”</p><p>The child cocked its head. (I thought you said they were snails.)</p><p>“I said they were mostly snails. There were other, um...less identifiable creatures mixed in as well. They were united by worship of the Void, not by race. But this particular one…” She remembered the Lord of Shades’ conquest, so many aeons prior. “This one I know well. It was consumed by the Lord of Shades as it tried to flee upward, and its shell was left behind. The remarkable thing about it was that it was pregnant at the time, and the eggs were left…” A horrible realization came to Her, and She trailed off.</p><p>(Does that mean...the prison we were in…?) She could hear a faint note of disgust in the child’s voice.</p><p>“It was an egg corrupted by the Void,” She whispered. “It’s probably what gave the King the idea in the first place.”</p><p>They stood for a while, contemplating that thought. Then--</p><p>(We should get out of here.)</p><p>“We should definitely get out of here.”</p><p>So they set off at a quick pace, towards the eastern side of the cavern, discussing their next steps. “Now, I’m sure some things have changed since I’ve been...gone...but we need to get to the top of Crystal Peak and I do believe it's in this direction. There should be a few miles worth of quiet, largely uninhabited caves, which will open into the moth’s old crystal mines. There will be a few things we need to gather for the ritual before we head up…ah…”</p><p>They had reached the easternmost wall of the cavern, to find a broad arch with a large, black gate. The child placed a cautious hand upon it, and the two of them could feel a strange, low rumble from the other side. (I don’t sense any more magic, do you?)</p><p>“No...but we don’t know what’s behind there. Be cautious.” The child nodded gravely, and pushed the heavy gate open.</p><p>The vague rumble became an ear-piercing din. Outside the their dark cavern was a busy collection of buildings teeming with more bugs than the Radiance had ever seen in Her life. They rushed to and fro in every direction, accompanied by the metallic groaning of bizarre machines and the buzzing of strange, uncomfortably bright streetlights. After centuries of time spent in the dream with only each other for company, the sight was overwhelming. She could feel a sense of panic growing in the child’s mind.</p><p>“Shut the door! Shut the door!” But the child was already closing it. As the heavy gate slammed shut, silence fell again, and the child slumped against the wall. </p><p>“Are you alright?” She whispered urgently. The child did not respond, and She asked again, more concerned. Then, in a soft voice…</p><p>(Quiet.)</p><p>“What? What’s wrong, little one?”</p><p>(Quiet. Largely uninhabited. Caves!) The child’s body jerked silently, and She realized with a start that it was laughing at Her.</p><p>“I--I said things might have changed! It’s been a while!” She sputtered out, but the child just laughed harder. She ruffled Her feathers in a haughty way, but couldn’t stop Herself from giggling, too. </p><p>The laughter eventually died down as they sat contemplating the task ahead. Finally, the child sighed. (I’m going to have to go back out there, aren’t I?)</p><p>“Not if you don’t want to.” Though staying here brings us no closer to your siblings, She thought. There was no point in saying it: the child already knew. After a while, it got to its feet and placed a hand on the door again. </p><p>“You can do this, little one. I’ll be with you every step of the way.”</p><p>(Could you...sing for me? That song the moths sing?)</p><p>“Of course.” She sang the first few golden notes, and felt a little bit of the tension fall from the child’s body as it opened the gate again. The noisy world outside was no less noxious, but they were both ready for it this time. Quickly, trying not to draw attention, the child slipped through the arch and gently closed the gate behind them. It blended in with the crowd, heading east through the mass of bugs.</p><p>(Eastward, eastward...what do we need to gather, for the ritual?) There was still a note of agitation in its voice, but the panic had faded.</p><p>She considered. “Crystals infused with light...a cutting from a whispering tree. That we should be able to find in Crystal Peak. But to get those, I think you need a new nail. It’s a pity we had to leave yours behind.”</p><p>(It was just too...big. Even when I was bigger, I had to drag it along behind me. Something smaller would suit me better. Maybe something like...that?)</p><p>She followed the child’s gaze. They had walked a sizable distance, and now stood in front of...perhaps some kind of restaurant? Food smells were drifting out of the building, as well as a sharp, bitter tang She didn’t care for. In front of the building, a group of bugs were lounging on low benches. One of them, perhaps a warrior, was slumped against the wall. A gleaming silver nail lay propped up beside him.</p><p>“What’s wrong with that one? Is he ill, do you think?” She couldn’t imagine sleeping in such a place. To Her surprise, She felt the child laugh again.</p><p>(Ill? No, he’s just had a little too much to drink.) </p><p>“Drink…?” </p><p>(Fermented grain. It was a popular beverage at the fancy dinners at the Palace. When bugs drink too much of it, they get... silly. Or fall asleep. I can’t say I see the appeal.)</p><p>She really couldn’t either. Besides the sleeping bug, the others did indeed seem...silly. They shouted raucously and sang off-key, seeming not to care about anything around them. But, She thought, that could work out well for them. The child, evidently thinking the same, crept up alongside the sleeping bug and placed a hand on the nail…</p><p>“Oy! What’re ya doin?” The child froze. One of the revelers had seen them, and was pointing towards them angrily. Fear crept up Her throat...they had only just escaped and they were already about to be caught…</p><p>“No kids!” The bug yelled. “Getcher nail and get outta here, brat!”</p><p>They both gave a sigh of relief. The child nodded quickly, and, taking the stolen nail with it, hurriedly ran off. It didn’t stop until the sounds of the raucous partiers had long faded.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Can bugs get drunk? They can now!</p>
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<a name="section0009"><h2>9. The ritual</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I've been trying to post only one chapter a day but this one! Is my favorite! and I just couldn't wait</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When they finally reached Crystal Peak, She almost didn’t recognize it.</p><p>The moths had mined the land, yes, but they had done so carefully: taking only what they needed and avoiding cutting in to load-bearing cavern walls. The bugs of Hallownest had apparently felt no such caution. The caverns, once full to the brim of massive, glowing pink crystals, were largely stripped bare. Their blank grey surfaces were criss-crossed with sagging wooden beams that struggled to hold up the unstable mines. Even with much of the crystal gone, the caves were full of bugs in mining uniforms and the sounds of pickaxes and machinery filled the air.</p><p>(Your statue...will it still be here?) She could sense the nervousness in the child’s voice. Everything was so different than what they had planned.</p><p>“Of...of course,” Truthfully, She was worried as well. But the crown of Crystal Peak was much further in, and the path was well-hidden. “These are only the opening caverns. There’s much more beyond here, and those chambers are well-hidden. Look to the walls--the moths marked the paths to their holy sites with essence. Otherwise, they are hidden, invisible.”</p><p>It took several hours of increasingly frantic searching--all the while trying to avoid the miners--before the child caught it: a soft golden glitter, attached to one of the rocky walls. High up on the wall, She could just see the path: a tiny, almost imperceptible slit in the wall near the ceiling.</p><p>(That’s it?) The child sounded incredulous. (I can’t fit through that.)</p><p>“It’s bigger than it looks,” She replied. It had to be. Even the largest and fluffiest moths had once traversed this path. She sensed the child’s doubt, but it shrugged, and used its new nail to scale the wall until it was level with the opening. Together, they stared into the darkness.</p><p>(I’m not going to get trapped in here and die horribly, am I?)</p><p>“Of course not,” She said, trying to sound confident, and the child wriggled inside the gap.</p><p>How long they crawled through the darkness, She did not know. It was uncomfortably tight, and every time the child’s long horns caught on the rock they both had to fight a sense of panic. But, at last, the tunnel began to fill with a gentle purple glow, until it ended abruptly in a bright, open cavern.</p><p>“Ahhh…” She whispered softly, a warm, nostalgic feeling in Her chest, “this is what Crystal Peak is supposed to look like, little one.”</p><p>(It’s...it’s beautiful…) replied the child, sounding a little breathless. She felt some pride at that; after all, the majesty in front of them was one of Her creations.</p><p>The cavern sprawled around them, lit in shades of purple and pink by the thousands of crystal formations growing from the walls and floor. Little islands of black rock jutted through the glow, and on one of them, in the center, stood the whispering tree: a fragment of the dream made solid. Its delicate, twisting branches glowed a light rose color, and essence shimmered around it like a mirage.</p><p>(We need that, right?)</p><p>“Just a few branches. And some chunks of the crystal.” The child nodded, and hopped over the sea of crystals towards the tree. She gave a little gasp--the crystals looked a lot sharper and more dangerous than She remembered--but the child landed safely and approached the tree. Gently, almost reverently, it took one of the glowing branches in its dark hands and severed it at the base with its nail. A few drops of orange-gold liquid dripped from the cut edge, and the child gently placed it on the ground, before turning to the crystals. A quick, forceful slash with the nail and a few of the smaller pieces shattered them. The child reached out to catch them, and--</p><p>(OW!)</p><p>“Careful little one, they’re sharp!” The child hissed as a few drops of black Void dripped from a scratch the crystals had made on its hand. Tearing off a piece of its faded cloak, it wrapped the crystals safely up, then picked up the cut branch in its other hand.</p><p>“You’ll need both hands free for the climb ahead, child.”</p><p>(I haven’t got any pockets) it replied, looking at its cloak in dismay.</p><p>“You’re made of Void. Your whole body is a pocket.” The child looked dubious. “No, really, I’m serious, just try it.”</p><p>The child stood still for a minute, gripping the branch and the crystal, before slowly, hesitantly, lifting both up to its hollow black eye sockets. The tips of both objects disappeared, and a few seconds later they had vanished completely, sucked in to the blackness.</p><p>(...)</p><p>(I don’t think I like that.)</p><p>Its voice sounded so mortified that She couldn’t help but laugh.</p><p>(Well, I’m glad you think it’s funny!) came the angry retort.</p><p>“Oh, come on now, it’s all right! Isn’t so handy? And now we can climb!” She directed its attention to another path, leading up out of the cavern. The child grumbled a little at that, but hopped towards the path and began to climb.</p><p>The path exiting the cavern was even more frightening than the path into it. While it was not as cramped, the climb was full of dizzying drops, sheer cliffs, and pockets of razor-sharp crystals. The whole thing was likely a great deal less frightening for a moth, but Her child could not fly and She spent the entire climb feeling like She was on the edge of a nervous breakdown. Finally, after a number of close calls, the child emerged from the tunnels into the dark, windy surface of Crystal Peak.</p><p>Nervously, it looked up. (This place is strange. I can’t see the top of the cavern.)</p><p>“There’s no top, little one. Above us is only air.” She hadn’t thought of it, but it made sense that the child had never seen the surface before. “This is my temple, child. Look, the work of my tribe still stands!”</p><p>Light was forming all around them, as the glyphs carved on the stone walls flickered to life. She wondered how long it had been since they had shined; how long it had been since anyone had walked here. Ahead of them a beautiful stone arch tipped with three spikes loomed, and She gestured the child through it. They walked through a few more, and then, in front of them, there it was: the statue the Moth Tribe had created for Her in happier times. The child approached it slowly, and stopped at the edge. In front of them, the surface of Hallownest opened up like a great rocky bowl.</p><p>Like everything else, it was different than She remembered. There were lights down there: a town, more people. But beyond that, She could see something familiar: the great dark rise of the Howling Cliffs. There, in a dark cave, the moths had long ago created the statue of Her brother, the Nightmare King. It was not, as with Her statue, an act of devotion. They placed it below Hers, and far from their home, in the caves, for a reason: it was a signal to Grimm that they respected his power but wished for him to stay away from them. Having lived with Her younger brother for a long time, She felt that was a perfectly respectable opinion to have about him.</p><p>But the statue had proven useful to him, decades later, when he had decided to leave godhood behind. She would never have thought that She would later be following in his footsteps. Pushing that thought aside, she began to direct the child: carve these glyphs here, spread the powdered crystal there, prepare the fire to burn the whispering branch…</p><p>A nervous feeling was building in Her chest, and She tried not to let it show. She hadn’t really considered it before they were here but...what if the ritual didn’t work? She wished She’d paid more attention when Grimm had told Her what he’d done. She wished She’d written it down. What if it didn’t work, and they’d come here for nothing? Or worse, what if the ritual killed Her? Once they began, it would not be possible to reverse what they’d done...all too soon, the child was done with its preparations.</p><p>(What now?) Far from sounding nervous, the child was beginning to sound excited. Oh, She really didn’t have any choice but to go through with this, did She? She started to respond, but Her words caught in Her throat as She realized: if the ritual went wrong, this could be the last thing She ever said to the child.</p><p>“Little one, I…” there was so much She wanted to say. She had long since begun to think of the child as Her own, but had never said that. It felt presumptuous, especially when the child was still mourning its real parents. She wanted to say it now: this could be Her last chance. But...the words could drive a wedge between them, and She couldn’t take that, not now. </p><p>Instead, She said cheerfully: “Before we do this...I think we need to give you a name.”</p><p>(A...name?) The child sounded almost uncomfortable. (Am I...I’m not…)</p><p>The Radiance sighed inwardly. In their years together, She had worked hard to stop the child from thinking of itself as a possession. It emoted now, it spoke, it asked for things and gave its opinion...but its lack of name had never been something they’d addressed. Its father had very pointedly never given it one, and had taught it that such treatment was what it deserved. In the past, She had opted to let it slide rather than argue the point.</p><p>But if this was to be their last interaction...if a name was the last thing She could give to it…</p><p>“I can’t keep calling you ‘little one’, after all. You’re so much taller now, and I’m about to get much smaller.” She really would miss Her old body if this worked. “And it isn’t just us anymore. We might meet new people, and how would I introduce you? If you pick a name you would like to go by, it would be much easier.”</p><p>(I...um…) She sensed trepidation in its mind, but also a guilty sort of excitement. It was like they were discussing something taboo. (I don’t know any...can you tell me some moth names?)</p><p>“Ah, well…” She thought for a moment, then directed the child’s eyes up to the dark sky above. “Long ago, there was a...phenomenon that existed in the sky over Hallownest. A shining, comforting globe of light surrounded by deep, inky darkness. The moths called it Luna, and it became a popular name.”</p><p>She conjured up the appropriate memory: an orb of pale silver light hanging low over Crystal Peak, the velvety blackness around it all the darker for its presence. The child watched it with great interest.</p><p>(Luna...I like it. I like it a lot. Can I be Luna?)</p><p>“I--well, of course, but don’t you want to hear any others first?” The child--Luna--shook its head briskly. “Alright then, Luna it is.” She could feel an earnest delight spreading through the child’s mind, and She regretted not having done this before.</p><p>(Should...should we start now…?) Luna gestured to the statue, and the Radiance felt Her heart sink. She couldn’t delay this forever. At least, if this was Her last interaction with the child, it had been a good one. Swallowing Her fear, She guided Luna through the first few steps of the ritual. As the glyphs activated, She could feel a darkness at the corners of Her mind: She was slipping from the dream world, as though She was being poured out of a jug.</p><p>(Is it working?) The question seemed distorted, and She struggled to respond.</p><p>“I...Luna...I will see you soon…”</p><p>And darkness fell on the Radiance.</p>
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<a name="section0010"><h2>10. The cocoon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There was something inside her. She could feel it in her chest, scraping up her throat. The thought filled her with fear, and she opened her mouth to let it out. But once she had, she realized she was wrong: it wasn’t that something was inside her, needing to get out. It was that she was desperately, desperately missing something.</p><p>Air. She couldn’t breathe.</p><p>Why did she need to breathe? She had never needed it before. But every fiber of her being cried out for oxygen, so she opened her mouth and gasped. Instead of air, her mouth filled with something soft and gluey, and she panicked. Her eyes opened at last.</p><p>The world around her was a deep orange. She seemed to be floating in some sort of jelly, likely what she had inhaled before. There was no air: a tight red-orange membrane surrounded the outside of the jelly. Desperately she reached out with her wings--her hands?--but she was weak, so weak, and the membrane bulged but did not break.</p><p>Just as she was about to black out, she saw it: a darkness spreading across the surface of the cocoon. A moment later, black claws tore through it, and she gasped as the air outside hit her face.</p><p>The moth who had once been the Radiance took her first shaky, desperate breaths on the ground at the top of Crystal Peak. Around her, she could feel a faint pulling sensation as Luna gently removed the last fragments of the transparent cocoon from her body. She wanted to help, but it was all she could do to lie there and breathe. This constant inflating of the lungs...did mortals really do this all the time? It was exhausting.</p><p>Something was nagging at the corner of her mind. She ignored it for a while, but it only seemed to become more insistent. After a moment, she realized what it was: Luna was trying to talk to her, but it was muffled. She listened harder, focusing on the voice.</p><p>(--alright? Please say something!) The desperate voice was still there in her head. It sounded as if they were separated by a thin wall now, but she could make out the words if she concentrated.</p><p>“Little one...Luna…” she spoke in her mind. She could probably speak aloud now, like a mortal, but her throat was still full of the orange jelly and she didn’t feel like testing it. “I’m alright, just...weak. We may have to wait here a while. When I recover, we can head somewhere safer.”</p><p>(Take your time.) Luna still sounded worried. It busied itself by running its fingers through her new feathers, trying to remove the sticky orange gunk. They stayed like that for a while  as she tried to regroup.</p><p>(I was thinking,) Luna started. (That I need something to call you, too.)</p><p>That was true. It wasn’t as if she could be introduced as ‘the Radiance.’ In any case, she no longer was the Radiance, no longer a god. She had been thinking, during their climb up Crystal Peak, about what she could call herself now that she was mortal.</p><p>“Actually, there was a moth name based off of my title: ‘Dia.’ It’s actually a word for the opposite phenomenon to the appearance of Luna--”</p><p>(Um.)</p><p>She paused. Wondering if something was wrong, she pulled herself into a sitting position. Luna was looking down, nervously twirling its fingers. (I was thinking, maybe a name that just I would call you.)</p><p>(Like…)</p><p>(Like ‘mother.’)</p><p>“Oh. Oh, um…” Her eyes were starting to prickle at the edges. Suddenly she felt wetness on her cheek and swiped at it with her new hands. More orange gunk. “I...I would like that, little one.” She took the child into her arms--how nice it was, to be able to do that again--and held it tightly.</p>
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<a name="section0011"><h2>11. The shelter</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She was at loathe to break the hug, but the orange jelly was starting to dry on her chitin and an unpleasant chill was seeping into her bones. Not to mention, this probably wasn’t the safest place for them to be. They were so exposed here, and still too close to the prison.</p><p>“Luna,” she said, pulling away. “I want to go to the old homeland of the moths. It’s possible that the King has destroyed it, but there are secret areas, like this, in the old caves. Perhaps we can find some help there, or supplies. Shelter, at the very least.”</p><p>Luna nodded, and slowly helped her--Dia, as she now must think of herself--to her feet. As she stood, unbalanced and unsteady, she had one absurd thought: she’d really have to apologize to the people of Deepnest, if she had the chance. She would have appreciated a few extra legs right then;  she had never realized how difficult walking was with only two. After a few false starts and painful falls, she managed to get moving, though she had to lean heavily on Luna.</p><p>The path to the moth’s homeland was no easier than the one to her temple. She suspected it would be a good bit easier if she could fly, but her wings were still choked with the jelly from the cocoon and were too heavy to lift her. Eventually, though, they left the sharp crystals behind, and emerged in a deep blue cavern.</p><p>There was a town here, as she knew there would be, domed houses clustered around little streets. But it could not have been more different from the dwellings they had found in Hallownest. There were no bugs in sight, no lights in the little windows, no sounds of any kind.</p><p>Her heart dropped. Even though she had been expecting this, she had still had a little bit of hope. This was the easternmost settlement of the moths, the most protected. If there were any moths left in the world, they would be here. She wasted a little bit of time checking some of the houses, looking for moths that she knew wouldn’t be there. After a while, she got control over herself. She had known this. She had planned for this. She had spent the past few...years? Decades? Centuries? ...grieving her people. </p><p>Beside her, Luna looked concerned, so she forced a neutral look to her face. The moths had disappeared because the Radiance could not help them, and the Radiance could not help them because She could not sacrifice Luna. That was a fact, she thought, that the child must never learn.</p><p>“Luna, we are alone here. I think, perhaps, it may be time to remove this nasty orange filth,” she said, since it was the first thing she could think of to talk about. It was amazing, she thought, that Luna’s mask-like face could not move and it still managed to give Dia a dubious expression. She pretended not to have noticed, and waved the child to a large doorway on the wall of the cavern.</p><p>The door opened to a pleasant sight: a pool of burbling, clear water that emitted a faint white glow. This, she knew, was a hot spring. The hot springs could be found throughout Hallownest, but the Moth Tribe had always seemed very territorial about this one. While she could have chosen to bathe in any of the pools of water in the cavern around them, the affectionate way the moths had spoken of the hot springs made her think there was something special about them.</p><p>Regardless, she was just glad to be able to remove the last traces of the cocoon. She must look absurd, covered head-to-toe in the glowing orange gunk created by her rebirth. Even poor Luna had gotten covered in the stuff while trying to help her down Crystal Peak, and she had to help the child remove its wet, sticky cloak. Finally ready, she sat at the water’s edge and slid in.</p><p>Oh. Oh wow. She felt better than she had in a long, long time, better than she’d felt as a god. The water was just the perfect temperature, warm without being too hot, and the orange jelly had begun to dissolve and lift off of her fur the second she had gotten in. Her whole body felt light, and the aches and pains she’d built up climbing down the mountain seemed to disappear. She suspected that there was something more to this effect than simple water temperature, some sort of magic at play, but she was too comfortable to be worried about it. </p><p>“Why didn’t you tell me these were so nice?”</p><p>(I didn’t knooooow.) The child sounded utterly relaxed, and she looked over to see that it had sunk to the base of the spring, apparently not needing to breathe. Globs of black Void were drifting lazily out of its eye sockets to float to the spring’s surface.</p><p>They stayed there for...perhaps more time than either of them were willing to admit. But they had places to be, and moreover, she was getting hungry. Luna didn’t require food, but said that it did remember liking the taste of it. So, with some regret, they both climbed out of the spring and began exploring the empty houses.</p><p>She didn’t feel bad about taking things from the houses. Moths believed the dead had no use of mortal goods, and, though she was trying not to think about it too hard, she suspected that the people who had owned these houses were all dead. In any case, moth goods tended to last a long time, and in the first house they found towels to dry off with, as well as a few jars of preserved fruit juice. Her hunger sated, she began looking for cloaks for the two of them. </p><p>In one of the larger houses, she found some clothes the moths would have considered finery, and picked out a cloak for Luna: a long, grass-green one trimmed with burgundy, with a mint-colored ruff and a decoration of the delicate, flower-shaped bells that hung around the Resting Grounds. Luna seemed a little taken aback at the elaborate clothing, but she held her ground: the child of a god and a king ought to look a little fancy.  And besides, she thought Luna looked so very good in green.</p><p>For herself, she chose something a little simpler: a fuzzy shawl in shades of orange and gold with delicate white designs. It suited her new form, and it felt good to be warm and cozy again. She also chose a thin, dark brown cloak that would function as more of a disguise. There was no hiding her horns: any attempt to cover them simply drew more attention to them. But the humble-looking cloak, at least, would make her look less recognizable.</p><p>“Look at us,” she said. “We look like proper mortals, now. No difference between us and the rest of Hallownest. Oh, wait…” she coughed and cleared her throat. Then, instead of using their telepathy, she spoke aloud: “N-no...eh...difference.” She coughed a few more times, then tried again. The second time was better, and she sounded almost the same as she did in her mind. Another cough, and she managed the first few bars of one of the moths’ songs. The golden notes hung in the air in a pleasing sort of way.</p><p>Luna clapped its hands with delight, then cracked open its own mandibles. No sound came out. She waited patiently as Luna continued to try, until a faint, high-pitched whistling could be heard. </p><p>“Oh, very impressive!” She clapped her hands together as well, and Luna gave a clumsy little bow. “Little one, you are a moth in all but form.” She felt a warm glow from the child’s mind. “Actually…”</p><p>Dia lifted up her cloak and plucked two long, gray feathers from her wing. She tied them together with a dark red cord, and motioned Luna to bow its head. “You don’t have soft fur of your own. But wear these, and everyone will know you are my child,” she said, tying the cord around one of Luna’s horns. Another burst of joy from the child’s mind, and she patted its head affectionately. As she did so, she stifled a yawn.</p><p>“It’s been quite a day, hasn’t it? I could use some rest…” Luna nodded, mimicking the yawn silently. She laughed and took its hand, leading it into the sleeping chambers of the house they were occupying. The rooms were as she remembered: plush beyond belief, stuffed with soft pillows and draped with embroidered cloths, dimly lit with spun glass globes filled with lumaflies. She sighed with delight. Moths knew how to do comfort.</p><p>She chose a seat on a giant grey silk pillow. Luna sat down beside her, perched a little awkwardly, as though it didn’t quite know what to make of the pillows.</p><p>“Let me guess...things weren’t quite like this at the White Palace?”</p><p>(Very much not. Father believed such things were unseemly. Bugs of Hallownest sleep on stone plinths. He said that was much more respectable.)</p><p>“Bah!” She laughed, and pulled Luna towards her until the child’s head lay draped across her lap. The child seemed surprised, but after a second, leaned into it. “Nothing wrong with being comfortable! Nothing more respectable than a good night’s sleep!”</p><p>(You...might be right…) The child’s voice grew softer in her head, and she stroked its horns gently as it fell asleep.</p>
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<a name="section0012"><h2>12. The grave</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Time for some Radiance angst. Radiangst if you will.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dia cracked open an eye. Luna was finally asleep.</p><p>She felt bad, lying to the child. Well, it wasn’t exactly lying--her new body was tired, and resting in the moth’s house was very nice. She just had no intention of sleeping. Actually, she wasn’t sure if she needed sleep at all--sleep, really, was just returning to the dream. And the dream lived inside her.</p><p>But Luna could sleep, probably needed sleep, and that worked out quite well for her. What she had to do next, she had to do alone. Slowly, gently, she lifted the child’s head off her lap and set it down on a nearby pillow. She scratched a quick message in the dust so Luna wouldn’t worry if it woke up before she returned, and then she set off.</p><p>The town they occupied was the deepest, most protected of the moth settlements, but there were others. And there were the Resting Grounds, the holy places. She struggled along the pathway that would take her there. It was dark, and the path was uneven, so the trip took her longer than anticipated as she repeatedly fell and picked herself up off the ground. </p><p>She passed tiny towns, empty and dark. Her feet sent up clouds of dust where she walked. The silence was absolute. The only thing she heard was her own voice, echoing back at her.</p><p>“Do you want to know what happened to them...even if it’s bad? Even if you can’t help them, if you’re too late? Is it still worth knowing?”</p><p>Yes, she thought, as she entered the Resting Grounds. It was still in surprisingly good shape: most of the bells and dreamwheels still hung from the arches and doorframes, the gravestones stood tall. But it was empty.</p><p>She couldn’t help but feel confused. The Pale King had not overrun the Moth Tribe’s homeland, as she had feared. But where were the moths? Worrying, she continued on: westward, to the place that connected the moth’s lands with Hallownest. The entrance to the tunnel was easy to see. It was massively overgrown with whispering trees, with trunks as thick as a large bug. In the very center, there was a deep black hole that looked as though it had been made by something burning through it from the other side. Warily, she stepped through.</p><p>The inside of the tunnel was dark, so she felt along the walls to guide herself. For a while, she could see nothing. Then she turned a corner, and up ahead, she saw a strange light. </p><p>Squinting at it, she crept closer. It was a bright, white light, seemingly floating in the dark. If she could just get closer…</p><p>Suddenly, she pitched forward, yelping, and for the tenth or twentieth time that day, she slammed face-first into the ground. She’d tripped on something sticking up from the path, something sharp. Irritated, she snatched it up to see what it was.</p><p>The bottom fell out of the world, and all the feelings she had been repressing for so long rushed up. There was a difference between thinking something--thinking that the Moth Tribe had been killed--and seeing the evidence in her hand.</p><p>The object she had tripped over was a Dreamshield. It had been a long, long time since she had seen one, but she would recognize them anywhere: after all, she had made every Dreamshield in existence. They were gifts, crystallized bits of the dream in the form of protective charms to keep her people safe. They were incredibly strong, powered by the life-force of the bearer. The Dreamshield in her hands was broken cleanly in two.</p><p>Hesitantly, she raised her head to look around. Now that she knew what to look for, the broken shields were everywhere: golden fragments, glittering in the dark. Her fingers curled tightly around the piece in her hand as she thought. There had been a battle here, and at least some of her people had died, leaving their shields behind. But where were the bodies? What had become of them?</p><p>She could only think that the mysterious white light ahead was the key, so she picked herself up and started walking. As she got closer, the light came in to focus: It was a bizarre, pitchfork-like shape. She couldn’t place it, but it looked unpleasantly familiar all the same. Closer still, and she realized that the light was not floating but emblazoned on a steel wall that had been erected in the middle of the tunnel.</p><p>She stopped in front of it, staring at the symbol, trying to understand. And she reached out...the symbol burned her, and she understood why it was familiar: it was the mark of the Pale King. He had been here, he had killed them, and now...what? He had committed one last cruelty: he had hidden all evidence of whatever had gone on here. She would never know what happened to her people. Were they all dead? Had he kidnapped them? Were they enslaved somewhere?</p><p>Or were they all dumped into some mass grave, unmarked, unremembered?</p><p>She couldn’t take it anymore. All the pent-up rage and frustration that had been simmering inside her since she had been captured spilled out, and she sank to her knees and screamed. Just screamed at the top of her lungs, orange tears rolling down her cheeks, not caring who heard her. Not thinking there was anyone left to hear. The sound echoed and reverberated off the walls, louder and louder.</p><p>“W-who’s there?” A voice shot out of the darkness.</p><p>Dia froze. She had thought herself completely alone, but she could hear it now: a shuffling in the darkness behind her. She whirled around, and gasped. In front of her stood a moth.</p><p>The moth was as old as any she had ever seen. She stooped forward, her eyes gigantic in her emaciated face, leaning heavily on a walking stick. Their eyes met, and Dia saw recognition flash over the other moth’s face. Her mortal disguise meant nothing to one of her own tribe.</p><p>“Y...you...it’s...it’s you,” whispered the moth. She sounded breathless. “The Radiance! After all this time…” She swayed where she stood, and Dia quickly stepped forward to catch her.</p><p>“I don’t...understand. How are you here, like this? You disappeared from the dream when I was only a child.”</p><p>“I was trapped,” she whispered back. “By the Pale King’s machinations. Believe me, I--I never would have left you if I had a choice.” That wasn’t exactly true: she’d had a choice, the choice had simply been too terrible to make. “I...was only able to escape recently, and I had to...leave the dream. I am no longer a god.”</p><p>The moth gave an incredulous little laugh. “I didn’t think one could just stop being a god.”</p><p>Dia swallowed thickly. “A real god could have protected her people. I don’t...I don’t even know what happened to them.”</p><p>The moth gestured down the tunnel toward the white light. “I was only little when it happened. The elders felt you disappear, and there was a panic. The Pale King showed up, not long after. He burned through the whispering trees. He spoke to the elders, told them that he would spare them if they joined him, if they forgot you and the moths he had killed before. One of the elders, named Markoth, spat in his face. He left, and came back with soldiers.”</p><p>“Are you...sure you want to hear this, your Radiance?”</p><p>Dia blinked. The moth was looking at Dia’s hands, which had been twining and twirling in the air nervously. She hadn’t even realized she was doing it: she must have subconsciously picked the habit up from Luna. Clasping her hands together to keep them from moving, she nodded.</p><p>“Well, the King returned. Markoth and some of the others...they took up arms against him. It went against our tribe’s beliefs but needs must. They said they were inspired by you.”</p><p>“They shouldn’t have been.” Shame clawed at her insides.</p><p>“Maybe. Maybe not. They fought a good battle, but there was no defeating the armies of Hallownest. They overran the few warriors here, in the tunnel, and then went further in to exterminate the rest of our tribe.”</p><p>“I see.” She could see it happen quite clearly, and it was her fault, all her fault...but it did not answer all of her questions about what had transpired. “I don’t understand some things, though. Why did the King seal off these lands, instead of just taking them? What happened to the bodies of the fallen? And how...how did you survive?” Are there others, she wanted to ask, but chose not to.</p><p>“Ah, I survived because the King willed it. We children were the best hidden, the most protected, the last to face the wrath of the Kingsmolds. Just as one of them raised its scythe to us, the King stopped it.” Dia had no words for that; she could not see it happening nor understand why it had happened. “He said it wasn’t worth it, that the Moth Tribe was finished anyway. He told us we would never leave these grounds, so we would never be a threat to him.”</p><p>“What did you do?” She whispered breathlessly, equal parts fascinated and horrified.</p><p>“What did we do? Ha! We survived. There weren’t many of us, and we weren’t strong. I was one of the oldest, I kept the group together.” There was some pride in the old moth’s voice. She stood, gesturing for Dia to follow, and began to walk down a small side tunnel Dia hadn’t noticed before. “The King sealed the Resting Grounds with that mark you saw. There are other ways out, of course, and I don’t know if he knew about them or not. But it wasn’t like we were in any hurry to leave, knowing what was waiting for us outside. So we lived here for a long, long time, and he left us alone.”</p><p>They reached the end of the tunnel, and Dia gasped. They stood in a large cavern, filled with graves. Some had crudely-wrought headstones, others had twisted bits of metal or chunks of rock. Most had been marked by three upright branches of a whispering tree, stuck into the ground. She sank down to the ground beside the nearest grave. Her people were here.</p><p>“We attended to the dead as best we could,” said the moth, as casually as though she was speaking about the weather. “Dug the graves, sang the songs. And we survived. We grew up, we grew old. Some died naturally...others decided to join the dream on their own terms. Some left, seeking lands beyond Hallownest; I don’t know what became of them. I’m the only one left now. I’ve watched over this place for a long time.”</p><p>She gingerly sat down in the dirt next to Dia. There was a lot Dia wanted to say, but it was hard to put the feeling into words. At last she managed: “Thank you. Thank you.” The moth gave her a gentle smile, and placed one withered hand on top of hers. “I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. You were my children...I was supposed to protect you…”</p><p>“Oh, give us more credit than that, your Radiance,” replied the moth blithely, and Dia jerked up in surprise. “We were your children. But children grow up. We chose to follow you...even after the plague, even after you disappeared. We chose to stand up to the King--no one forced us! And we knew the consequences. Those that died, or left...they chose that, too, and who are we to say they were wrong? I chose to stay, for my own reasons, and I don’t expect pity for it. I’m an adult, in case you haven’t noticed.”</p><p>Dia sat in shock for a moment, and the old moth chuckled. “Look at you. I didn’t know gods wore such silly expressions. Best close your mouth, or the lumaflies will get in.” She laughed, and to Dia’s great surprise, she heard herself joining in. The old guilt would never leave her, no matter what the moth said, but...she felt...lighter, somehow. </p><p>They sat like that for a long while, Dia still trying to understand. “Do you…” she started at last, hesitantly. “Do you think it means anything? That he left you alive, that he sealed this place instead of just destroying it? Do you think he feels...remorse?”</p><p>“You sound almost like you hope he does,” replied the moth, and Dia shrugged. “Perhaps you’re right, and you really aren’t the Radiance anymore. I don’t think I’ve ever heard a god talk like that.”</p><p>Dia wondered vaguely if she ought to feel insulted at that, but the old moth continued: “Maybe that’s a good thing, Old Light. Maybe you’ve changed for the better. Maybe he can too.”</p><p>“I’ve watched over this place for...too long. Watched as all the others left, watched as my body broke down and I had to use magic just to keep living. I always had this feeling, like I was staying for some reason. Now that I meet you, I think maybe you’re it.” She sighed. “I lived to see even the gods change. I lived to offer what wisdom I had. Now I can go, and rest in peace.”</p><p>“No!” Dia couldn’t stop herself. The last of the moths alive… she had only just met her...this moth couldn’t leave her already. But those thoughts were selfish, weren’t they? She had thought being confined  in the dream was a punishment, but even she had had Luna with her. To be truly alone, for so long...to have survived in such isolation… “I’m sorry. You deserve your rest. I will be your guide, if you will allow me the honor.”</p><p>“I would like nothing more,” replied the moth, her eyes glittering. She pressed something into Dia’s hands, and she looked down to see an intact Dreamshield--perhaps the last one in existence. “Take this. You have more need of it than I. And Radiance...don’t avenge us. Not like before.”</p><p>“I...I won’t. I promise.” She nodded quickly, then reached out to take the moth’s hands in her own. “Are you ready?”</p><p>The moth nodded, and Dia reached out to the dream. She had done this, many times before: the rite of Ascension, the most sacred ritual of the moths, wherein a priestess of the Radiance did not actually die, but became one with the dream. She hoped it would still work now--this old moth deserved it. The golden light of the dream filled her, and she let it flow through her fingers towards the other moth. Dia’s eye’s were closed, but she could feel it: the pressure of the moth’s hands on hers becoming less and less, until it disappeared entirely. She opened her eyes just in time to see the last golden wheels of essence flicker and disappear. She was alone in the cavern now. The old moth was gone.</p><p>There was, by definition, no body left when a moth Ascended, but she thought a grave marker was appropriate anyway. She reached out to the whispering trees. It was not as easy to bend them to her will as it had been when she was a god, but they were still a part of her. She grew a great, flourishing tree over the spot where the moth had last been, resplendent with twisting pink vines and golden drops of essence. It was the best send-off she was capable of. </p><p>Dia attempted to get to her feet, and nearly fell: her new body was still so unsteady, especially when Luna wasn’t around to lean on. The old moth’s discarded walking stick gave her an idea, though. She reached out again to the whispering trees, and this time, conjured a long, straight stick out of the ground. It would serve to balance her well. At the top, she placed a spell: a delicate crystallization of her power in the shape of a glowing rose gold sphere. It resembled the moth’s lumafly lanterns, and would serve to light her way in the dark tunnels. </p><p>The way back was considerably easier, with her light, and her walking stick. She fell down quite a lot less, anyway. As she walked, she thought: her people had not been exterminated, not totally. The Pale King had spared them, and sealed off their holy lands. Did it mean anything? She, the Radiance, had been wicked and cruel, and she had changed...was the Pale King capable of the same thing…?</p><p>She was engrossed in those thoughts when she returned to the house she and Luna had been sharing. When she walked in, to her surprise, Luna was awake and...dancing with another bug?</p><p>No, she realized as she got closer. The child was standing in front of a mirror, looking at its reflection and twirling in its new cloak. She couldn’t help but smile...it was so normal, so wholesome, as though the child was not an abused victim of experimentation but any other adolescent bug. Dia had the same feeling then that she had had when they had first met: that she would do anything to protect that child. She had an urge to jump out and take Luna in her arms, but thought better of it...it would be awfully embarrassing for the child to be caught like that.</p><p>Instead, she backed up to the door of the house, and made a great effort to clatter through it with as much noise as possible. </p><p>(Mother?) The child’s voice had a definite air of embarrassment to it, which she pretended not to notice. (Is everything alright?)</p><p>“Yes, little one,” she replied, feeling for the first time in a long time that she actually meant it.</p>
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<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Intermission</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>I make concept art for some of my fics and since this one is about halfway done I'd thought I share it here. You can tell this was drawn before the fic was written, as the Dreamshield shows up in scenes its not supposed to be in...oops.<br/>Anyway, this is what Dia and Luna are looking like these days. Dia's cloak is based on the fuzzy and terrifying Megalopyge moth, and Luna's is, of course, based on the Luna moth.</p>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Deafeningyellscollection on tumblr made a really beautiful dress for Luna based on this that you should all see: https://wendywhite13.tumblr.com/post/644653551916892161/here-have-a-pure-vessel-in-a-moth-dress</p>
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<a name="section0014"><h2>14. The whispers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Was it normal, Luna wondered, for a bug to be this interested in its own appearance? There were many bugs in the White Palace, servants of the King, who had done so. They were forever staring at their reflections, buffing their shells, or painting their carapaces with strange dyes. Father disapproved of their vanity, while Luna had simply failed to understand it.</p><p>It had not been fond of its own reflection, in those days. If it found itself by a mirror, it angled its gaze away. The repeated molts--the destruction and recreation of its own carapace--had left it tall and ungainly, so that it towered uncomfortably over other bugs. Its jet-black carapace, which never reflected light, no matter how bright, set it apart as well. Seeing its body in reflections was always a reminder to the Pure Vessel that it was not a being like other bugs, but an object, with a purpose.</p><p>The clothes it had been given bothered it in a similar way. The heavy, interlocking plate armor with hooks on the shoulders served to remind it of the chains that would someday bind it. The cloak was such a pure, spotless white that it seemed to mock it. Privately, its reflection filled the Pure Vessel with a guilty sort of dread.</p><p>Now, however, Luna stood in front of a tall mirror in the moth’s house, and seemed unable to take its eyes off of its reflection, just like one of Father’s vain old servants.</p><p>It wasn’t as though Luna had sought out the mirror. It had awoken some time ago to see Mother gone, which had worried it a bit until it saw a message scrawled in the thick dust of the floor: “gone to look for supplies, back soon, stay here.” So it had explored the house to pass the time. Moth homes were so different from the White Palace: they were so cozy, so colorful. There were no bright lights or sharp edges. Luna had gone from room to room, trying to imagine itself living there, as one of Mother’s tribe.</p><p>It had stopped, when it caught sight of itself in the mirror. It stood at the end of the hall, watching its reflection, trying to make it fit into the house. </p><p>(I’m a moth in all but form) Luna said to no one in particular, and it stepped closer to the mirror in a defiant sort of way.</p><p>It was then that Luna noticed the way its new cloak twirled when it walked, floating and swirling about its legs, and the spectrum of greens that flashed through it when the light changed. Yesterday, when Mother had given it the cloak, it had been a little taken aback: the gaudy colors and elaborate decorations were so different from the clothes Father had wanted it to wear. But today, its reflection seemed so...pleasing to look at. Mother was right, green did suit it, much more so than white ever had. And its body looked...better, after the molt. Its height was so much more normal, no gangly limbs stretching out past the cloak’s hem. Its head was a softer, rounder shape. Even its carapace seemed a little different, though it took Luna a while to realize it. Where the shell had once been a solid black, there was now a faint iridescent sheen, just barely visible in the light: a delicate rainbow of colors floating above the black. Luna couldn’t be sure why--perhaps it had been the new molt, or maybe it was just a side-effect of sharing a mind with the god of Light for so long. Either way, it found the effect mesmerizing.</p><p>It twirled in front of the mirror, enjoying the gentle swirl of fabric around its legs, the delicate chime of the bells, and the flowing rainbow colors on its shell. Suddenly, there was a clatter from down the hallway. Luna nearly jumped right out of its carapace. It felt strangely embarrassed, like it had been almost caught doing something silly.</p><p>(Mother?) It called. (Is everything alright?)</p><p>“Yes, little one,” she replied as she came into view. She looked a little haggard, and Luna saw that she leaned heavily on what appeared to be a walking stick. Luna had never seen it before, but it recognized the wood as having come from a whispering tree. At the top, a sphere of pink light glittered. Dia caught Luna staring, and she explained: “I’m still a little unsteady, so I thought I’d make myself a walking stick. I’m quite pleased with how it turned out.” And she did seem...pleased. Luna couldn’t perceive her emotions as well as it could when they had shared a mind, but it could still sense a sort of...lightness...that hadn’t been there before.</p><p>“I brought something for you as well, Luna,” she continued, reaching into the pocket of her cloak and pulling out a glittering golden object. Luna inspected it: it was a heavy gold broach, inscribed with a symbol that resembled essence. “A Dreamshield,” Dia explained. “They’re charms that I made for the moths. Go on, try activating it.”</p><p>The Dreamshield glittered as Luna focused on it. Suddenly, something appeared in Luna’s peripheral vision and it jumped, instinctively reaching for its nail. But the motion came not from an enemy but a bizarre, flower-shaped golden shield that floated lazily in midair. Luna watched as the shield drifted over its head and hit the wall with a delicate tink, then changed direction.</p><p>“It doesn’t offer complete protection. And I suppose it takes some getting used to, but it might help keep you a little safer. Which will be important, as we head to the Ancient Basin.”</p><p>Luna jerked. In all the excitement of yesterday--breaking out of the prison, scaling Crystal Peak, making the Radiance mortal--it had quite forgotten what they had set out to do in the first place. It was furious with itself. Its siblings were rotting in the dark while it was relaxing in the hot springs and twirling in a mirror. (Let’s go) it said quickly.</p><p>They gathered their supplies and headed out. Mother had found a map of the Resting Grounds in one of the abandoned houses, and they used it to locate a small tunnel that would take them down to the Ancient Basin.</p><p>The crawl was as unpleasant as ever, though at least Dia’s new walking stick helped illuminate the tunnel. The end of the tunnel was caved in, but the rock wall crumbled in the face of sunburst attacks from the two of them, and they emerged in a dark corridor. It had been a long time since Luna had stood there, but it remembered enough to know where they were. </p><p>(I think we’re in the service tunnels close to Deepnest,) it said, looking around. (If we go straight down from here, we should reach the Abyss. We need to avoid going east. That’s towards the palace.)</p><p>Dia nodded sharply. Neither of them were eager to chance a meeting with the Kingsmolds. They made their way out of the dark service tunnels, trying to look inconspicuous. They had chosen a good time to arrive: it was the middle of the night and there were few bugs in the area. Those that were there, the graveyard shifters, looked too tired to pay them much mind. A few times they caught sight of a Kingsmold, but they were able to avoid them easily enough.</p><p>The area had certainly changed from what Luna remembered. There were fewer areas of jagged stalagmites and rough-hewn rock--these had mostly been replaced by the elegant, spiked stone scrollwork Luna knew the King favored. There were no signs of towns or habitation here though. Perhaps the King did not want common bugs living by his palace. Or maybe he was simply trying to keep onlookers away from the Abyss.</p><p>The tunnel leading to the Abyss was blocked off by a fence made of pale silver spikes. Dia was able to melt them easily enough, though, and the two of them stepped through. A nervous sort of excitement was beginning to build in Luna’s chest. It wasn’t that Luna was eager to see its birthplace: on the contrary, it was terrified at what it might see there. Mounds of broken children’s carapaces, cracked black eggs...the black spirits. Had they been trapped there, all these years? Were they afraid, or in pain? Did they--and this was the question that filled it with fear--did they hate Luna for escaping, and leaving them behind? The most frightening thought was of one sibling in particular: the one with the U-shaped horns, the one who had saved Luna’s life. The one who Luna had watched die…</p><p>It was not eager to confront those ghosts. It was not eager to hear what they might say. But...it had hid from them for so long. Since the moment the Pure Vessel had stepped out of the Abyss, that guilt had been weighing on it, the uncertainty had been suffocating it. The idea that it might finally know what had happened to its siblings...that maybe it could speak to them...apologize to them…</p><p>Luna was so occupied with those thoughts that it hardly noticed where the two of them were going, only stopping when Dia abruptly gasped. It stopped beside her, following her gaze forward. The entrance to the Abyss was in front of them, but it was sealed with a strange white symbol: a four-pointed pitchfork. Dia was staring at it with an odd, almost horrified expression, and before Luna could speak she lifted her staff. The sphere at the top glowed brilliantly, and a golden sunburst shot out and smashed into the door. Nothing happened.</p><p>(Mother,) Luna said quickly, placing a hand on her shoulder. (This isn’t a seal like before. It's something Father called the King’s Brand. He uses it to mark places he...doesn’t like to remember.)</p><p>“Doesn’t like to remember, huh?” She raised an eyebrow. “So he regrets it…” Dia trailed off, not meeting Luna’s eyes but focused on the Brand. At last, she sighed. “Do you know how to break it?” </p><p>Luna shook its head. (He never showed me how. But I can try.) A soul globe burst to life around it. No effect. Even the soullight globes that had destroyed the seal on the prison didn’t work. Dia hovered around the Brand, inspecting it from all sides. She drew glyphs in the dirt with her staff, made complicated motions with her hands. Some of the spells shot gold wheels of essence into the air, some did nothing at all, but none of them seemed to please her.</p><p>Luna watched her in a numb sort of way. It had been so close...so close to having its questions answered. The nervous anticipation that had built in its chest seemed to curdle into something cold and painful. It leaned against the wall, placing its head on the cold stone…</p><p>“Your father is too clever for his own damn good,” Dia was saying, her voice hoarse with frustration. “This magic, it’s not mine or the nameless tribe’s. Perhaps he brought it from outside Hallownest...this is impossible, how many schools of thaumaturgy can one Wyrm practice? Ah, there must be a way--”</p><p>(Do you hear that?)</p><p>Luna was pressed against the wall. There was something there, just behind the rock...the sound grew louder, closer to the door, and Luna pushed past Dia to lean its head against the wall. She blustered at it, sounding worried, but it held up a hand to silence her. There was something...something just there behind the wall…</p><p>(Someone’s there! I can hear them whispering! There must be a way in!) Luna gestured Dia over, and she pressed her ear to the wall as well.</p><p>“I… I don’t…” she was saying, but Luna couldn’t understand why. It was so obvious now, the whispering. There was someone in there, just at the catwalk. If that person could get in, surely they could too...</p><p>(They’re right there! Just call out to them!) Luna looked up at her, the excitement building in its body. And then, it caught the expression on her face, and its heart sank again.</p><p>“Little one...I don’t hear anything. I think perhaps...I can’t hear them.” There was a look of pity on her face, and she reached out to Luna. Luna felt her hand on its shoulder, pulling it close, but it could barely feel it. The realization washed over it in waves, and it felt like it was sinking below the surface of a black sea.</p><p>Its siblings were there, there in the dark, calling out to it, and there was nothing it could do. It sank to the stone floor, wrapping its arms around its thorax and shaking. Dia was still standing, looking at the door with an unreadable expression.</p><p>“Child.” She said softly, raising its face to hers with a gentle hand. “Can the Pale King open this seal?”</p><p>There was a long silence. Luna felt unable to process the question. But eventually, it nodded.</p><p>Dia sighed deeply, gathering herself. “Then it is the Pale King whose help we need now.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. The blades</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>(What can you see?) Luna angled for a better grip on the rock face, trying to make out some meaning in the tiny dots below them. The two of them hung to a narrow rocky outcrop almost a mile above the White Palace. They needed to do reconnaissance, but this was the closest Luna felt comfortable bringing the now-mortal Radiance to the Pale King.</p><p>Unfortunately, it meant that the Palace was really too far away for Luna to make anything out. Dia, whose glowing, lamp-lit eyes saw much more acutely, was watching instead, and Luna couldn’t help asking for nervous updates every few minutes.</p><p>“Same as before. Lot of Kingsmolds.” Dia replied, sighing. “A lot of Kingsmolds, he really went a bit overboard making those. It does worry me the way they’re all clustered around the palace. I think perhaps your father knows by now that we are no longer confined.”</p><p>Luna twirled its fingers uncomfortably. Beside it, Dia leaned forward over the precipice.</p><p>“Ah, there’s something,” she said, pointing to a group of colored dots coming down the Palace Way from the west. “Not wearing the uniform of the palace servants...kind of a motley crew.” The group of dots stopped in front of the palace. “Seems like the Kingsmolds think so too, they’re not letting them in. Oh, hang on, one’s gone up to talk to them. She’s an odd one. Tall, three horns, looks like some kind of white armor.”</p><p>(I know her!) Luna was surprised to see her here, but the description fit. (Fierce Dryya! She’s one of the five great knights of Hallownest.) Once, the Pure Vessel had learned sparring from those knights, before the King realized they had a tendency to hold back while fighting the child, and switched to using the Kingsmolds instead. Dryya was tough, but fair, and Luna remembered liking her.</p><p>“Hmm. Doesn’t look like she’s in good standing now. They just pushed her away. Quite rudely too.” Dia replied, then sighed. “This is no good. The crowd in front is only getting bigger, and the Kingmolds aren’t going to leave to eat or sleep like normal bugs. I don’t see any sign the Pale King is leaving the palace either.”</p><p>(There’s another way. More security, but fewer people to sound the alarm.)</p><p>Dia cocked her head. “How do you have more security with fewer people?”</p><p>(The deterrent is in how difficult the path is to traverse.) Luna remembered that path well, and even now it sent a little shiver of fear down its carapace. (Father sometimes went places he didn’t want anyone to know about. Not his subjects, or even his knights. So he built the secret passage. He would take me with him, sometimes.)</p><p>“That’s convenient,” Dia replied. “Seems like a bit of a security risk for a bug who’s usually so clever.”</p><p>Luna shook its head. (The path is nearly impossible to traverse without wings and a good knowledge of soul magic. He can do it easily. I...was trained extensively to be able to travel the path.) Memories of that training flashed unpleasantly across its mind.</p><p>Dia appeared to mull it over. “Good. You can show me the way, then.”</p><p>Luna’s fingers abruptly stopped twirling and clenched tightly. (You-you’re not coming.)</p><p>“Oh, I’m not, am I?” Dia rolled her glowing eyes. “You think I would let you have all the fun? No, you can’t get rid of me that easily.”</p><p>(NO!) The force of Luna’s yell in their minds made them both jump. (You can’t! He hates you. If he knew you were alive--he, he’d--) the words were too horrible to say. (You’re mortal now! I can’t...)</p><p>“You can’t what?” The joking tone had left Dia’s voice and now her words were soft and dark. “You can’t let me risk my life? Luna...it isn’t your choice to make. It isn’t your burden to bear. If I go in there, and I die, that’s on me, you understand?” She reached out and pulled Luna into her arms. “You can’t hold on to everything, child. This is my choice...and I would never choose to let you go in there alone.”</p><p>(No, I…) But she was right, wasn’t she? The idea that she would die for Luna, add one more body to the pile of guilt it carried…</p><p>“Enough, child. You asked if you could call me your mother. Well, as your mother, I will not stand here and wait. I’m coming with you. It’s final.” She raised her hand and for a horrible, bizarre second Luna thought she was about to strike it. But her hand bopped gently against its horns instead. “I won’t deliberately throw myself into danger. I will hide. You will address the Pale King. Tell him...tell him you defeated me, and that is why you left. Tell you took these as a trophy.” She gestured to the long grey feathers tied to its horn.</p><p>It felt a little offended. (I would never!)</p><p>She only laughed. “Then think about what you will say to him. You must convince him that he has nothing to fear anymore, or he will never open the Abyss for us. Now let’s get going. Show me where this secret entrance is.”</p><p>So they climbed back down the cliff face, down to the rocky area below the Palace Way. Here, the path was a rough, narrow channel that was difficult to cross through, but they didn’t dare risk flying above it when they were so close to the Palace. As they walked, Luna inspected the rocks around them, searching for the tiny, four-pointed pitchforks scratched into them that marked the safest path.</p><p>Even with the guides, reaching the palace was the work of several hours, and they were tired and sore by the time the white walls came into view. (The door is hidden by soul,) Luna began. (I...remember it being around here somewhere. Um…) In truth, Father had always been the one to open the door on their excursions, and Luna wasn’t entirely sure how.</p><p>“Well, take your time,” replied Dia blithely, with the air of someone who couldn’t care less about the delay. She turned away and began making strange hand motions; Luna realized that she appeared to be counting the rocks around them. It felt a rush of gratitude towards her for that: Luna had always hated having to perform under pressure.</p><p>Alone, it inspected the wall. There was definitely something there: Luna could see the faint white shimmer of soul along its surface. It worked its black claws along the wall, feeling the softest, tiniest catch. No one who didn’t already know the door was there would find it, but Luna was certain that the entrance was here. It bent down to focus, channeling soul not into one of its explosive globes but down into its fingers. Nothing happened for a minute, but deep, deep inside the wall, Luna felt a latch give. With a flash of intricate white glyphs, the door appeared.</p><p>“You did it!” Dia said, quickly turning. “Alright. Let’s see this impossible path of yours.” Luna nodded, pushing the door open. At once, the grinding of sawblades filled the air. The secret path was a maze of them, all gleaming steel and sharp edges. Luna had had some time to prepare for the sight, but even then, it felt a chill run across its carapace. It stifled the fear: emotion would serve it no better now in the White Palace than it ever had.</p><p>Dia was not so stoic. “What the...what the fuck…” she hissed, staring at the sawblades in horror. Luna wished she wouldn’t make such a big deal about it, it felt uncomfortable. But she had stepped to the edge of the narrow platform they were on to look more closely at the buzzing blades. “What kind of neurosis… this place, it’s vicious…” Luna could see the exact moment her brain made the connection, could see it in how she stiffened, in the deep orange glow that suddenly flared from her staff. She turned back to Luna with a stricken expression on her face. “You said you were trained to cross this? What did he...how?”</p><p>Its hands twitched uncomfortably on the hilt of its nail. With an evenness it didn’t really feel, Luna said: (it can be crossed by dashing and jumping, if one’s timing is correct. You can hop over the blades using a nail.) To demonstrate, it smashed the stolen nail on the ground, catapulting it a few feet in the air, then looked up to see if Dia would accept that.</p><p>“Absolutely fucking not,” was all she said.</p><p>And so Luna found itself pressed against Dia’s fuzzy underbelly as her massive glowing wings carried them both awkwardly through the maze of blades. It carried its nail and Dia’s staff, and Dia carried it, panting with the exertion as she dipped and wove through the obstacles. It was an awkward, ungainly way to travel, and Luna privately thought they must look very silly. So different, from the pale king and his thin white wings, gracefully winding between the blades. Different even than the white-clad Pure Vessel, slicing across the pathway with its pure nail and perfect timing, learned from thousands upon thousands of training drills.</p><p>It remembered those drills well. Looking out at the obstacle course in fear, trying desperately not to show it. All the sloppy starts, where a mistake in timing of a fraction of a second was rewarded by the sharp slash of a buzzsaw through one of its limbs. Even then, it persevered. There was no stopping, not when the Pale King was watching, not when a real Hollow Knight wouldn’t even feel the pain.</p><p>So it kept going, stacking injury on injury, Void dripping from the cracks in its shell and pooling at its feet, until it got hit one too many times. Then its shell would crack, the blackness inside it would spill out, and it would feel the call of the Abyss...only to be suddenly yanked back to reality, waking on the nearest bench. Father would stare disapprovingly, but it knew the truth: it was not failing, but succeeding. The drills were not about traversing the path without injury, but making sure that the Pure Vessel did not flinch from pain or fear. Everytime it got off the bench to head back into danger, every time it shrugged off a gruesome wound, it proved itself. It made Father proud.</p><p>Those thoughts churned idly in its head, and without really thinking about it, without meaning to, Luna reached out one hand, just as they passed a whirring saw. There was a flash of pain, sharp as silver, and black fluid splattered over the white walls. Dia stopped in midair, jerking backwards. There were a few moments where they shook back and forth as she desperately tried to self-correct. Finally, she managed to steady herself and deposited them both roughly on a nearby pillar.</p><p>“Luna, I’m so sorry, where did it get you?” For a second, the Pure Vessel stared at her blankly. It didn’t matter, this was nothing, it could keep going easily--</p><p>(My hand.) Luna answered, holding it out. A neat slice of absolute blackness cut through its iridescent carapace, dripping Void. Dia tore a strip from her brown cloak to wrap it, fretting.</p><p>“I’m so sorry, little one, I took that turn too tight--”</p><p>(It was my fault. I...reached out.)</p><p>She watched it silently for a moment, and Luna wondered how much she understood. They no longer shared a mind, but she knew Luna better than any living thing ever had. After a moment, she sighed and simply said: “don’t do that again.” Luna nodded.</p><p>They picked up again, Luna keeping its eyes closed and its hands tightly clasped to its chest until Dia set down again. Slowly, it cracked open its eyes. They stood against the white wall, on an ornate balcony beside a bench. In front of them stood a familiar door.</p><p>(This is the door to the King’s quarters. Can you...wait here?) Luna said, taking its nail and handing Dia her staff. She nodded.</p><p>“If you’re in trouble call for me,” she whispered, and Luna nodded before stepping through the door.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. The statue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The King’s chambers were much as Luna remembered them: bright, clean, full of the spindly metal furniture that Father liked. There was no one there, so Luna opened the next door, to Father’s bedchambers. There was the white stone plinth, the desk piled high with papers, and...something new. A previously empty corner now held a towering statue, whose great white horns nearly scraped the ceiling. Luna stepped closer.</p><p>The knight depicted by the statue was idealized, to be sure, standing taller and straighter than the real thing, carapace as pure white as its cloak. Its head was different, a sharper, more angular shape. But the differences meant little: even with the changes, Luna could hardly fail to recognize its own face.</p><p>All it could do was stare. Never, in its wildest thoughts would it have imagined this, and Luna could only guess at what it meant. Luna had assumed that it had been forgotten; an object that had fulfilled its purpose, no longer worthy of the Pale King’s attention, but...here it was in the King’s most private quarters, staring at itself. Remembered. Regretted?</p><p>That was an odd thought. The Pure Vessel was supposed to be emotionless, but it hadn’t been. It had loved its father, in secret. For the first time, Luna wondered if it hadn’t been the only one keeping secrets. Had Father come to care for it? The thought was intoxicating.</p><p>Maybe this could be easier than it thought. Maybe Father would see it and rush to take it in his arms, like Mother. Maybe...maybe it could explain the situation to Father, and he would see how good Dia was, how much she had helped it, and he would forgive her and there would be no need to fear him anymore at all…</p><p>It was startled out of that increasingly absurd fantasy by the sounds of a fight. Someone was walking through the nearby rooms, getting closer, and they sounded upset.</p><p>“For the last time, I am sorry about your mother but I do not have an answer for you!” Luna froze. It could never mistake that voice: its father was just a room away.</p><p>A much higher voice responded: “You must know something! This whole thing was your idea! Tell me what’s going on, I can help you--” There was something familiar about the woman’s voice, but Luna couldn’t place it.</p><p>“I do not require your help. I am dealing with this situation as I see fit. Now, I have entertained your disrespect long enough. Leave, or I will have you removed.”</p><p>“Fine!” hissed the woman. “Nice seeing you too,” she said in a low voice, and Luna heard the sound of her stomping off. It sounded like she stood on more than two legs. There was silence, for a moment, and then Luna heard Father sigh, one of the deep sighs he had given so often in the days of the plague. Those sighs had sounded so sad; Luna had always wanted to hug him, but such things were of course out of the question. It had hoped that Father would be happier now, now that the Radiance no longer troubled him. Without really thinking about it, Luna stepped closer to the door.</p><p>And then it opened. There was no time to react, so Luna simply froze as the Pale King stepped into the room. Their eyes met, and after a beat the Pale King said in a weary voice: “You’re not the first assassin to reach me here, but I must congratulate you on being the first to make it in through the secret entrance.”</p><p>(No, I’m not here to hurt you! It’s me, Lu--your child!) Luna was disappointed that Father didn’t recognize it on sight, but it had changed so much. Regardless, it could explain.</p><p>“You wear the clothing of a deceased tribe. Before I kill you, you must tell me how you got it,” continued the King, drawing a white nail from the inside of his robes. He had not reacted to Luna’s words at all...and then Luna realized something horrible, something that should have been obvious but had been overlooked by both it and Dia. Dia could understand Luna’s telepathy, because they had shared a mind. But the Pale King could not.</p><p>The Pale King held his nail aloft, so Luna did the only thing it could think of: dropping its own nail, it fell to its knees. The King stopped, and it bought Luna a little bit of time.</p><p>Dia had once said that Void was the most malleable substance on the planet, and Luna was completely Void inside. Theoretically...theoretically, it could therefore create vocal cords for itself. The only problem was that Luna wasn’t exactly sure what vocal cords looked like. It opened and closed its mandibles silently as the Void inside its throat writhed, trying to assemble into the correct anatomy.</p><p>Unfortunately, the King seemed to take that as a threat. “KINGSMOLDS! TO ME!” </p><p>Frantically, Luna shook its head. A high-pitched whine sputtered out of its mouth but still no words. Its mind raced desperately. There had to be a way to communicate with him--</p><p>And then it saw it. The statue. Luna pointed at it, then back at itself, desperately praying Father would understand. At first, he frowned...but slowly, it seemed to dawn across his face…</p><p>Two doors slammed open in quick succession: one behind the King, as five Kingsmolds burst into the room; one behind Luna, as Dia, apparently summoned by the noise, rushed in. She saw the Pale King with his nail raised and snarled, grabbing Luna and throwing it behind her. The King’s eyes widened as he took in her glowing eyes, the three spiked horns on her head. “Seize them!” he roared, and the Kingsmolds lunged forward.</p><p>Luna grabbed its nail, but Dia was faster. She raised her staff in front of her as it glowed a bright gold. The light was blinding, but behind her, Luna could see it throw a deep shadow. The shadow grew, improbably, three spikes jutting from its head and wings extending from its sides...two bright slits appeared over its face…</p><p>And suddenly Dia gave a gasp of pain, clutching a hand to her chest. The light, and the terrifying shadow, disappeared instantly, just as the first Kingmold reached her. The scythe sliced downwards, and an arc of orange blood painted the walls.</p><p>“MOTHER!” The word hurt, tearing out of Luna’s half-made throat, but it could barely feel the pain over its fear. It raced forward, a soullight globe rushing past it as the Dreamshield burst into being beside it. The soullight impacted the first Kingsmold like an arrow through a leaf; the sound of the bell rang out and the creature fell to the floor with a clatter of armor and a splash of dark Void. The one behind it managed to parry the spell, but it was knocked back several feet into its companions. As they struggled to pick themselves up, Luna ran forward to grab Dia from where she lay on the floor. She did not react at all.</p><p>Luna straightened. (Don’t think) it thought, for the first time in decades. As it turned, its eyes met the Pale King’s, only for a second. There was something there, like he was about to speak, but Luna couldn’t wait. Dia was bleeding out now, and the Kingsmolds were right behind it. They were the true Hollow Knights: no pain, no fear, only devastating power and blind obedience, and Luna had to get away from them. </p><p>It raced back the way it came, until it stood on the balcony overlooking the sea of blades. There was no way it could get across the usual way, not with Dia in its arms. But Void, it thought, was the most malleable substance on the planet.</p><p>The Kingsmolds burst through the door. There was no time to test the theory, so Luna jumped, hurtling towards the sawblades below.</p><p>Moth wings caught the air, pulling them safely up, but they were not the glowing grey wings of the Radiance but jet-black, reflecting the faintest iridescent sheen. Luna beat them desperately as they soared up above the blades, fleeing the White Palace.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I know what you're thinking: "wouldn't the Pale King recognize his own child right away?" But put yourself in his shoes here. Imagine you're an old man, and your adult child who you haven't seen in forever shows up in your bedroom unannounced, looking about twenty years younger than you remember them being, and also they're dressed like Elton John. You'd be confused too.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. The rising</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She was the daughter of three queens, and each had wanted something different from her. The White Lady had wanted her to become a demure, elegant daughter of the court, someone who would fit into Father’s new civilization. That obviously did not happen, and when the White Lady realized the little spider was too wild for the White Palace, she tried to send her home to Deepnest. Father had stopped that, and so Hornet had been shunted sideways, to the Hive.</p><p>Queen Vespa had been her mother there, and all she had asked of Hornet was that the girl became a peerless warrior. Hornet hoped, for her sake, that she had fulfilled that particular maternal expectation. </p><p>Only after reaching adulthood had Hornet been allowed to return to her true home, her true mother. She understood why, of course: she was essentially a hostage. The people of Deepnest were proud, ferocious, and they did not take kindly to the laws of their new self-appointed king. But the spiders loved Herrah, and Herrah had given her life to create Hornet. They would not stand against the Pale King while the Queen’s precious daughter was in his grasp.</p><p>When Hornet returned to the Nest, she found it diminished. Their dark, untamed homeland had been molded into the King’s idea of what civilization ought to look like: roads and lights and machines. The native species had been overhunted, some completely exterminated, and it was not uncommon for the citizens of Deepnest to go to bed with empty bellies now. The Weavers, who were immigrants but longtime allies of the Queenship, had fled Deepnest: they feared the repetition of the same events that had made them refugees in the first place.</p><p>And Deepnest had needed her, even though she was only a Queen in name, even though the true power resided in the White Palace. She still held some sway over her father--she was his only true heir, after all--and she could advocate for her people as no one else could, or would. Slowly, things began to improve in the Nest. But it was not enough--not for her people, not for her. They would be free of the King’s power someday, Hornet swore.</p><p>The nature of a spider is patience, and that was what Hornet needed. Though it was forbidden to discuss it, she remembered what had become of the Moth Tribe. And the war that followed, and the terrible steps the King had taken to regain control of Hallownest. She had no desire to see those events repeated. So while she longed for combat, she forced herself into a subtler role: the role of the spider, spinning its web, waiting for its prey to fall into its trap.</p><p>Progress had been made, certainly. She had surrounded herself with her mother’s old confidants, the Devouts, warrior women who would kill and die for the Queendom. She had taught herself the Weaver’s magic, from the texts they left behind, magic that could potentially stand up to the King’s. She had even found allies outside of the nest.</p><p>The first, and most surprising, had been none other than the White Lady herself. Hallownest’s Queen had left the White Palace--Hornet could never get her to say exactly why--and sequestered herself in the gardens the King had built for her. She still had love for her husband, something that made Hornet uneasy, but she had come to object to his rule of Hallownest, and supported Hornet’s bid for independence. The Queen never left the gardens--she was too large, too conspicuous--but her messages were relayed by Dryya, one of the knights of old.</p><p>Hornet had been surprised to see one of her father’s great knights working against him, but truthfully, even as a child in the White Palace, she had harbored some suspicions about Dryya’s relationship with the Root. It wasn’t like the five great knights were relevant anymore anyway: Hegemol had been killed quelling a riot in the Crossroads, and Ze’mer had become the scandal of the pale court by eloping with a mantis. Ogrim and Isma were still technically knights, but in name only: privately, Hornet knew, they had been demoted and sent away from court. She suspected that they too had begun to object to the King’s policies, but it had been too risky to approach them to find out: they were now stationed in the capital city, the center of the King’s power.</p><p>That did not leave the King unprotected of course: he had taken to surrounding himself with Kingsmolds, the kind of guards that didn’t talk back or raise moral objections. And Hornet knew better than to try to turn a Kingsmold.</p><p>So she waited, in Deepnest, at the side of her true mother. Herrah was a mystery to her. Of all her mothers, Hornet knew her the least; they had had such little time together before Herrah had had to fulfill her promise to the King. Nothing about their interactions had given Hornet a solid idea of what Herrah required of her, and the Queen had left no instructions before slipping into her coma. It made no sense. Parents had children for a reason, after all, and Hornet longed to understand what her purpose was. If she was making her mother proud.</p><p>She thought about it every night as she went to bed...she could hardly avoid thinking about it, as she still slept in the Queen’s bedchambers. That night, as in every night, she blew out the candles, bowed to the still figure sleeping on the plinth, and laid out her bedroll on the floor beside it. </p><p>Hornet was just on the edge of sleep when the sound woke her. It was ragged, pained sort of breathing, accompanied by an odd choking noise. Her needle was in her hand in a second, and she leapt up to face the door.</p><p>There was no one there. The sound, improbably, came from the room behind her. Cursing herself for sleeping through the intrusion, she whirled around, and gasped with shock.</p><p>Herrah was sitting up in bed, all six of her eyes open. She sounded as though she was struggling to breathe, but as Hornet watched, she began to speak. “Seal-em-break-aba-oldlight.” Her words were gibberish, delirious. “Child-o-oldlight-o-dreamligh-cha--”</p><p>“Mother?” Hornet hated how small her voice sounded, how weak and uncertain. She was a child again, tiny and helpless, at her mother’s feet. The sound seemed to reach Herrah, and she trailed off, before slowly turning her head.</p><p>“Ch...child…” she whispered, tears forming at the corners of her many eyes. “Look at you. Look how you’ve grown…” She held out her arms, and without thinking, Hornet, the huntress, the Queen of Deepnest, ran forward into the embrace like a child. Her mother’s arms wrapped around her, pulling her close.</p><p>“M-mother, how are you...how are you awake…” </p><p>“The seal is broken, child. We were fools...so foolish...all this time, it was too strong to be contained…” A jolt of fear ran through Hornet. She must mean the Radiance, the vengeful old god of the moths. It had escaped? Hornet could only imagine the god’s rage, after being confined so long. The plague was going to start anew…</p><p>Suddenly, her mother slumped against her, coughing. “Child...we have little time…”</p><p>“W-what? No!” Hornet yelped in terror. Not after all this time, not when they had just met again...but Herrah shook her head, coughing harder.</p><p>“We were never...meant to wake...we knew that sleep was the same as death,” she whispered. “That was...the King’s promise...but I am forever grateful...that I got to see you...one last time…”</p><p>“No, nonono…” Hornet pleaded, but the sounds of Herrah’s breath were getting fainter. “Please, mother, what do I do? Tell me what to do!”</p><p>Herrah’s eyes met hers as she slumped backwards.</p><p>“Live,” was all she said, and then she was gone.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I did not put a MCD warning on this because Herrah dies in canon. But if I should have (ao3 etiquette can be hard to navigate, sorry) let me know and I will change that.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. The conspiracy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hornet stalked through the darkness alone. It had been a few days since Herrah’s funeral. The send-offs of Queens were traditionally elaborate affairs in the Nest, but this one had been small: Hornet, her old midwife, and the Devouts only. She did not yet know the implications of her mother’s death, and she wanted to avoid panicking the people of the Nest. If things worked out...later...she could host a proper funeral.</p><p>She had left the Devouts in charge of the Nest, with very specific instructions: they were to watch the citizens, and each other, for signs of infection. The barest glint of orange in a bug’s eyes was enough cause for execution. She hated to give the order, but Deepnest would not fall because she had underestimated the Radiance.</p><p>As she walked, she tried to remember how the last fight against it had gone. She was only a child, and her memory was hazy. The Pale King had ordered her and Herrah to the White Palace, which was still safe from the plague, and there she had met his answer to the crisis: the Pure Vessel. When she had arrived, the creature had been only a little taller than she was, but it had grown unnaturally quickly until it towered above her. She’d been fascinated by it at first: trying to get it to laugh, or smile, or jump, or just react to her. Father had caught her at it, though, and put a stop to it.</p><p>“That is not some silly child you can play with,” he had said, “that is the cure for the plague. Unlike the weak bugs of this kingdom, it has no mind to befoul or lead astray. It has no heart, and it feels nothing for you.” That had scared her, and she had stayed away from the creature after that. Not long after, the Pure Vessel had been sealed, and her mother had been lost to her. Now, according to Herrah, that seal was broken…</p><p>Hornet stopped walking. She stood in an old Garpede tunnel, carved long ago, before the Pale King had exterminated the Garpedes. The tunnels were one of the precious few places where his influence did not reach: they were too old, too well-hidden for his cartographers to navigate. It was in these tunnels that members of the conspiracy met, and it seemed that she was the first of them to arrive.</p><p>Dryya was the next to show up; Quirrel came shortly after. None of them were surprised to see each other: the time and place of their meeting had been arranged in advance via a series of complex signals and codes. Quirrel spoke first.</p><p>“The madame is dead. I found her body sunk to the bottom of her tank a few days ago.” His voice sounded wet, as though he’d been crying. Hornet flinched a little. She disliked public displays of emotion like that. They’d all lost someone, crying about it wasn’t going to bring anyone back.</p><p>Hornet kept her voice even and professional as she responded. “My mother is the same. I’d imagine Lurien is dead as well, though that information is likely being suppressed. Before she passed...Herrah told me the seal had been broken by the creature inside it.”</p><p>Quirrel gasped, but Dryya merely nodded. “The White Lady felt the seal break. The Old Light once again walks among us, though she does not know where. Some force seems to be shielding it from her sight.”</p><p>“What should we do?” Quirrel hissed.</p><p>“We have no choice but to go to the King,” Hornet replied wearily. The others started to protest, but she put a hand up. “If the White Lady cannot sense the Radiance, then we are blind. The Pale King knows more than any of us about how the seal worked. We must find out what he knows.”</p><p>Her companions had passed worried looks to each other, but neither had a rebuttal, so they began walking towards the Ancient Basin. They chose separate tunnels, so they would not have the appearance of arriving together. When they finally reunited on the Palace Way, they found the path forward blocked by Kingsmolds.</p><p>“He knows,” Hornet whispered. She had never seen that many of her father’s creations in one place. It could not be more obvious he feared some kind of attack. Dryya stepped forward.</p><p>“I am Dryya, Knight of the Queen, here to--” she was cut off as the Kingsmold abruptly shoved her back. She looked rather shocked. “Clearly, he’s not accepting visitors…”</p><p>Hornet eyed the Kingsmolds warily. They were dangerous, she knew that well, but they were also simple: mindless prototypes of the Hollow Knight. They could follow only simple directions, and if one direction contradicted the other, they tended to freeze up in confusion. Steeling herself, she shoved through them. They lifted their scythes to stop her, then froze as she had hoped they would. They had obviously been ordered to keep visitors out, but they also had standing orders not to harm the King’s heir, and since they couldn’t carry out both orders simultaneously they simply stood like statues. She stepped past them, into the Palace proper, and from there she found her way to the King’s quarters.</p><p>She found him hunched over a desk, writing. He looked up when she entered, surprise turning to resignation. “I don’t suppose there’s any point in asking how you got in here?” He gestured to the chair in front of him.</p><p>“None,” she replied, still standing. “You know we need to talk.”</p><p>“We do not,” the King replied, looking back down at the spider-silk papers. </p><p>“The Beast is dead. I can tell by your face that you aren’t surprised.” </p><p>He sighed. “I’m sorry to hear that, but no, I am not surprised. Things have changed with the seal, and I am very busy managing it. Now--”</p><p>“Managing it? You mean tracking down the Radiance.”</p><p>The King twitched, then slammed his palms down on his desk. “Do not. Say that name.”</p><p>“My apologies,” Hornet replied. She hadn’t been expecting that response. One of the things she had always admired about her father was how he rarely broke his composure. But he was looking more frazzled than she had ever seen him. “I know something is going on. Something killed broke your seal and killed the Dreamers. Tell me what you know!”</p><p>“For the last time, I am sorry about your mother but I do not have an answer for you!” The Pale King rose from his seat with a snarl and was pushing her back, towards the door.</p><p>“You must know something!” Hornet yelled desperately, forgetting her own composure. How could he pretend this wasn’t happening? The seal was broken, the Radiance was out there somewhere… “This whole thing was your idea! Tell me what’s going on, I can help you--”</p><p>“I do not require your help!” the King roared, opening the door and pushing her back through it. “I am dealing with this situation as I see fit. Now, I have entertained your disrespect long enough. Leave, or I will have you removed.” He nodded to the Kingsmolds in the hall, who stepped forward to form a wall between him and Hornet.</p><p>“Fine!” she hissed. “Nice seeing you too,” she added. Hornet made a great show of stomping off, using her extra legs to make it sound more convincing. At the end of the hall, she stopped, listening. She thought she had sensed someone else in the King’s chambers, and after a second, she heard the King’s voice. She couldn’t make out the words through the wall, and peculiarly, she could only hear the King’s half of the conversation. A few seconds later, however, she heard her father yell, and the Kingsmolds in the hallway bashed through the door. Hornet watched them, trying to decide if she should follow. Whatever was going on was certainly interesting, but if she went in her father would definitely know she was spying.</p><p>She was still debating when she heard it: a single rough, wet scream, full of terror: “MOTHER!” She made up her mind and darted in.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. The hunt</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Surprise! I finished writing this behemoth so I'm going to start releasing two chapters a day.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She entered just in time to see the impossible: a Kingsmold torn to pieces by a single spell. The assailant stood in the back of the room. It was a bizarre-looking bug, dressed in flowing green robes decorated with purple bells. Hardly the uniform of an assassin. There was something familiar about it, though she couldn’t place what it was.</p><p>There was little time to speculate, however. The intruder bent to pick up a prone figure from the ground, and then took off back towards the King’s bedchamber. The Kingsmolds followed, and Hornet was right on their heels. There was nowhere to run from here; these rooms led only to the balcony overlooking Father’s insane obstacle course. Sure enough, the intruder skidded to a stop at the edge of the balcony, cornered. And then, inexplicably, it jumped.</p><p>Hornet was certain the creature was dead; it had possessed no wings that she could see and there was nothing below the balcony but spinning blades. But a second later, the intruder appeared again, and there was no missing the massive black wings that had spontaneously sprouted from its back. They seemed to be forming themselves in the air as she watched, from a gloopy black substance. And Hornet at last knew where she had seen that bug before: standing silently behind the King as he had left the palace for the Temple of the Black Egg. The Pure Vessel.</p><p>Her breath caught in her throat. So it was true, the seal was broken, but she couldn’t understand what was happening. Why was the Pure Vessel walking around, apparently breaking into the White Palace? Who was the second bug, for that matter?</p><p>She darted back out of the King’s chambers, down the stairs, out the palace doors. Dryya and Quirrel tried to call out to her but she had no time to stop. From the back of the palace, she could see a great black shape emerge, before ducking into the tunnel along the western edge of the Palace Way. Flinging her needle ahead of her, she followed.</p><p>It was difficult to track a flying bug, but she was a child of Deepnest and she had hunting in her blood. Her eyes picked up tiny flecks of orange on the ground--plague? The color was right but it didn’t smell or feel like what she remembered. Her ears caught the beating of wings in the distance, the desperate scrabbling of claws on stone. The Pure Vessel even carried an odd scent now, something musty and old. She tracked it through tunnels even she didn’t know existed, upwards and eastwards, through empty towns and overflowing cemeteries. She had a good feeling she knew where they were, in the sealed homelands of the Moth Tribe, and it did nothing to lessen her sense of unease.</p><p>At last, the Pure Vessel stopped, in a dark, ghostly village. She caught sight of it carrying its companion’s limp body through a door in the cavern wall and hung back, listening. Through the door, she could hear the telltale burbling of a hot spring. That surprised her--hot springs were typically well-guarded places that allowed in only the elite. This one had clearly been forgotten.</p><p>From inside, a voice began to speak. It sounded like a woman, a woman Hornet didn’t know. Her voice was weak and faint, and Hornet could barely make out the words. The woman’s voice paused, then started again, as though she was responding to a conversation Hornet could only hear half of.</p><p>She poked her head around the corner. The Pure Vessel, still in those bizarre clothes but without the wings, knelt at the side of the pool. It looked different than she remembered: it seemed shorter, somehow. But its mannerisms seemed different as well. She remembered it as being stiff, unresponsive, which made sense, given what the Pale King said about it. But there was something almost...loving...about the way it bent over its companion in the pool. Something gentle in its hands, something watchful in the tilt of its head. Hornet well remembered her father’s words: “it has no heart and feels nothing for you.” Maybe, but the Pure Vessel clearly felt something for the bug in the pool. Her curiosity raised even further, she crept inside the cave to better see the identity of the mysterious companion.</p><p>The strange bug lay half-in, half-out of the hot spring, a pool of that strange orange blood gathered around her. She was huge, covered in grey fur, and didn’t resemble any species of bug Hornet had ever seen. Her face was oddly beaklike, and was it a trick of the light, or did her eyes glow? Hornet’s gaze travelled up, over those shimmering eyes...to the three spikes atop the bug’s head…</p><p>Her needle cut a silver slice through the air as she leapt forward. Hornet landed by the pool, holding her blade at the Radiance’s throat.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. The reunion</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The flight through the tunnels was terrifying. Dia was silent and still in Luna’s arms, and orange blood dripped from between Luna’s fingers as it desperately tried to hold pressure on the wound. It wanted to stop, to check if she was still breathing, but it didn’t dare. They needed to get far, far away from the palace. The only place it could think to go was back to the hot spring. Dia had said there was some sort of healing magic in the spring, and as Luna landed--black wings liquifying and sinking back into its body--it could only hope she was right. Gently, it walked through the arch and lowered her into the water.</p><p>The surface of the pool turned orange with blood, but after a few seconds Dia’s eyes opened. “W-what...what happened…?” Luna shivered at how faint her voice was.</p><p>(I’m sorry. Everything went wrong. I tried to talk to him, but he couldn’t understand me.) Luna ran its hands through her fur. There was indeed magic in this water: the scythe wound was closing before its eyes.</p><p>Her eyes looked unfocused. “Didn’t...understand…?” She groaned suddenly, sounding more alert. “Oh, curse us both for fools. He can’t hear your voice, can he?” Luna shook its head, and she sighed deeply, wincing in pain.</p><p>(He knows now, I think. He knows who we are.)</p><p>“Who both of us are, unfortunately,” she replied. “I don’t know what to do now, little one...I can’t see us getting back into the White Palace. Nor do I think he would ever willingly help me.” She didn’t meet Luna’s eyes. “I’m sorry, child. I shouldn’t have run in like that, I just…”</p><p>(You were trying to protect me.) Luna finished. It was something that Luna had begun to take for granted, in the last few decades: the idea that someone would try to protect it. It had begun to seem like a natural part of life. But seeing the White Palace again had made it remember that there was a time when no one had done that. (Don’t apologize for that. But...what happened to you in there? You were about to attack, but...)</p><p>She grimaced. “It seems some of my magic is...too much for my mortal form. The pain shocked me out of the spell. Don’t worry about it--I’ll just have to be more cautious with what magic I use from now on. Now what I’m curious about is: how did you get us both out, child?”</p><p>But before Luna could answer, there was a flash of silver and red. Something had darted out from the shadows, something small and quick, and it stood behind Dia with a blade at her throat. Luna reached for its nail just as the assailant yelled: “Stop! Any movement and I’ll cut her!”</p><p>Luna forced its hand down and stared at the new threat. She obviously wasn’t a Kingsmold, but the bug in red looked familiar all the same. Her voice was commanding, but there was a strange, stricken expression on her face. The bug’s needle was at Dia’s collar but her eyes were focused on Luna with an appraising sort of look to them.</p><p>“You...do you...remember me?” she whispered.</p><p>That was very familiar, and Luna wracked its brains, trying to think. A girl in red...had there been someone like that, at the palace? Someone whose colors stood out bold, against the white, whose curious personality had always been getting her in trouble? Someone who was always hanging around the Pure Vessel, trying to get it to laugh…</p><p>“Hor...n...net?” The word came out high-pitched and strangled, but a smile broke over the woman’s face as it spoke.</p><p>“It is you,” she said wonderingly. “I knew it! I always knew there was more to you…” she gave a little laugh. “After all he did to you...and now you’re here…” her expression changed as she looked down at the bug in her arms. “Here with her.” There was a nasty inflection on the last syllable.</p><p>“Here with me,” Dia cut in. She sounded surprisingly nonchalant. </p><p>Hornet hissed. She seemed a lot angrier than Luna remembered. “I don’t know what you did to break out, or what sort of hold you have over the Vessel, but you’re not getting away from me, murderer.” Her needle slid deeper into Dia’s ruff, drawing a few beads of orange blood. Luna’s hand twitched over its nail.</p><p>Dia closed her eyes. “I don’t...deny that. But, please, you don’t know what’s going on here. I...I don’t want to hurt anyone anymore, I just want--” But Hornet snarled.</p><p>“Don’t want to hurt anyone? What about my mother, witch? You didn’t mind killing her! And now here you are, making the Vessel break into the palace for you! You haven’t changed. Your little war with my father is all you care about!” Her face was twisted in fury, her words growing higher and faster as she spoke. Luna had an odd idea: that it hadn’t been the only one of its siblings repressing its emotions. Hornet spoke like a volcano erupting, like a wellspring that had been plugged for too long and was now bursting through.</p><p>“Your mother? Your...father? Who are you?” Dia frowned up at her, but before Hornet could respond, Luna had leapt forward, knocking into her. The two of them rolled across the stone floor before separating, each jumping to their feet. Luna planted itself between Hornet and its mother.</p><p>“Vessel...what are you doing?” Hornet hissed. “That is our family’s enemy! She is using her magic on you...possessing you, or…”</p><p>“Naaaaaah….tttt…”</p><p>“What?” She cocked her head.</p><p>Luna cleared its throat, concentrating. “Not V...vessel…” The words got easier, the more it spoke. “My...name is...Luna.”</p><p>There was silence, and Hornet stared at it, shock written on every line of her pale face. “Name? You...you have a name?”</p><p>“She...gave me…” it said, pointing to Dia. “She is...my mother.”</p><p>Hornet blustered at that, but Dia’s voice, so much more certain, rang out: “Princess. I know who you are now. There is more going on here than you realize. I beg you, please listen to our story before you make your judgements.”</p><p>“I…” Hornet looked back and forth between them, clearly torn between revenge and curiosity. Finally, she sat down on the stone floor, arms crossed tightly in front of her chest. Luna thought she looked a little like it had as a child, when it had been pretending not to listen to the Radiance’s stories. To her credit, though, Hornet did listen, as Dia told her about her war with the Pale King, her binding, how the two of them met. </p><p>A soft little smile crossed Dia’s face as she spoke of the rude little child who had blown up so many soul globes in her face--Luna cringed inwardly--but her expression darkened as she told Hornet about Luna’s siblings, locked away in the Abyss. Hornet’s face turned ashen at that point: perhaps she had never realized how many half-siblings she had, or how they had been created. </p><p>Dia continued, telling her how they had decided together to break free and how they had accomplished the task. Hornet’s hands clenched in her lap at that point. Luna had forgotten up until then: her mother was a Dreamer, wasn’t she? Luna hadn’t thought about what would happen to the Dreamers when their seal was broken, but from the expression on Hornet’s face it couldn’t have been good. </p><p>But the story continued: the ritual at Crystal Peak. The moth homelands. The quandary of the King’s Brand, blocking off the door to the Abyss, and the disastrous trip to the White Palace. Eventually, Dia reached the end, and they sat in silence, waiting for Hornet to decide if she believed them or not. Eventually, the spider sighed, and spoke.</p><p>“My mother died a few days ago. She had not spoken or moved for most of my life, but right before she died, she sat up in bed and told me the seal had broken, that ‘it was too powerful to be confined.’ At the time, I thought she meant the vengeful god of the moths. But now I see she meant you.” Hornet looked up, and Luna shifted uncomfortably. Did Hornet blame it? After all, it had been Luna’s spell that had fractured the seal. “She passed not long after. But, uh…” Now it was Hornet’s turn to look away. She acted as though she was about to reveal something shameful. When she spoke again, there was a catch in her voice. “But before she died, she held me, like she had when I was a child. She told me that she was grateful to see me again.”</p><p>Neither Luna nor Dia spoke. Hornet was looking determinedly at the ceiling. “I...I am glad as well. If you hadn’t broken the seal, I would never have spoken to her again.”</p><p>Mixed relief and pity ran through Luna’s mind. It wanted to say something comforting, but nothing came to mind. However, Hornet spoke again.</p><p>“Your quest to see your family--our family--again...it’s noble.” She flicked her eyes towards Dia. “And if you really are helping it--if you really have changed--then perhaps I can help you.”</p>
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<a name="section0021"><h2>21. The corpse</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>(Are you sure we can trust her?) Luna asked, looking up at the falling white flakes with unease.</p><p>“She has all the reason in the world to hate me,” Dia replied, using their private mental link, “but she does seem to care for you. And I get the sense that she has little love for her father.”</p><p>Hornet had agreed to help them, somewhat grudgingly, on one condition: that the door to the Abyss be left open after they were done with the siblings so she could arrange for certain members of Hallownest society to ‘accidentally’ stumble across it. She was working, she said, towards ousting the Pale King from his throne, or at least reducing his power. If the story broke in Hallownest’s newspapers--and here she had to explain to both Luna and Dia what that word meant--of what the Pale King had done to his own children, it would severely undercut his support in the capital city. Hornet’s name, of course, would never be connected to it.</p><p>(What about her plan? Does it make sense?)</p><p>Dia hummed. “I always knew the King had been a Wyrm before coming to this land, and that he had cast off that body to rule over Hallownest. I had always assumed he’d destroyed it. But...if it still exists...the corpse could carry the same magical power that the King brought from the outside lands. If we could use it to open the seal without the King’s help...it would certainly be worth it.”</p><p>Luna nodded and settled back against the rock. They were both waiting, in the strange, out-of-the-way place that Hornet had brought them to, for her to return from her scouting. It had been a while, and Luna was starting to get nervous.</p><p>The location didn’t help. It looked like nowhere Luna had ever seen: wild, and empty. A strange, white substance fell constantly from somewhere within the caverns. Dia had said it reminded her of something called ‘snow’ that fell on the surface, but it wasn’t cold enough. Luna ran its hand through a pile of it curiously.</p><p>“Don’t touch that,” came a voice, and Luna turned to see that Hornet had returned. “It’s dead skin molting off of the Wyrm’s corpse.” Luna withdrew its hand immediately.</p><p>“The path ahead is fairly clear. He hasn’t done a lot to guard it--I expect that he doesn’t think anyone would stumble across it, this far from Hallownest. There are a few sections where it would be best to stay above ground. Not a problem for me, but you might want to get those wings of yours ready.” Luna nodded, focusing. A second later, the massive black moth wings burst from its back. Dia was staring at them, awestruck, and Luna realized it had been the first time she’d seen the new wings. Then she looked down, catching its eye, and her face beamed with pride. Luna would have blushed, if it could.</p><p>They soared above the guards and the difficult terrain, Hornet leading the way. She traveled not with wings, but with silk: thin white threads that acted as grappling hooks and bridges to carry her over the danger.</p><p>As they flew on the guards grew fewer and the white flakes grew thicker, until Hornet gestured the down to a little crevasse. Inside lay the corpse.</p><p>It was massive. The part they could see was larger than the moth’s house, a gigantic tube crowned with long, wicked spikes. It was indeed falling apart: as they watched, flakes gently lifted off from its wispy white flesh.</p><p>“Inside is the first King’s Brand. He used it to mark his new shell, but it can be bestowed upon any of his blood. I assume it will work for you.” Hornet gestured through the spikes.</p><p>Dia raised an eyebrow. “How is it you came to know these things, spider?”</p><p>“He took me here as a child,” Hornet replied stiffly. “I am his heir, after all. If he was to die, he would want Hallownest to continue, under one of his children. He explained to me how to take the Brand, and what benefits it would confer.”</p><p>Luna stared into the maw of the Wyrm. Something was bothering it. Turning to Hornet, it choked out: “why...not...you…?”</p><p>“What?” She looked at it curiously. Luna took a breath to try again, but Dia spoke first.</p><p>“What my child is trying to ask is: why, if you are also an heir, do you not take the Brand yourself?” Hornet began to stammer out a reply but Dia turned to Luna and spoke first. “But I believe I can answer that question. You see, child, your sister is the queen of Deepnest, which is under the sovereignty of the Pale King. And she’s a clever girl, and she knows what happened to the Moth Tribe when their leader defied the King. She fears that if she is caught with the Brand, openly defying her father, that her tribe will suffer the same fate.”</p><p>She paused and glanced at Hornet, who looked away but did not disagree. She continued. “But we have no such constraints. Our kin are all dead already. The only bugs who will suffer for our actions are ourselves.”</p><p>Hornet sighed, and looked back at Luna. “I can’t deny what she says. It’s true that I must think of my Queendom first. The Moth Tribe died brave...but they died all the same. I can’t let that happen to my people. But please, do not doubt my commitment. I...I really do want to help you.”</p><p>Luna considered this, then nodded, stepping over the spikes and into the Wyrm’s corpse. The inside was oddly silent, save for the crunching of its feet over the delicate, paper-thin flesh inside. The interior had decayed faster than the skin, leaving behind odd structures: spikes, trailing fronds. And then, up ahead, Luna saw what had to be its target: the broken vestige of some mysterious organ, a basin-like structure that glowed with a pale light.</p><p>Up close, the familiar shape, the four-pointed pitchfork, was visible. Luna reached out a hand--</p><p>Pain, hot and bright, seared across its back as the Brand manifested itself. Luna jerked at the unexpected sensation, then froze. There was a terrible sound from all around it, a great rumbling, like the world was shaking apart. A second later, Luna realized it was, as a chunk of white flesh dislodged itself from the ceiling and crashed to the floor. The corpse was no longer gently flaking apart, but actively destroying itself.</p><p>Luna ran for the exit, the black wings flaring behind it. But pieces were falling faster now--it wasn’t going to make it--the light was fading as the chunks of dead flesh and rock piled up in front of it--</p><p>There was a sudden burst of golden light, and Dia was there, wings outstretched, silhouetted against the brilliance like the god of old. She reached out one hand and Luna took it desperately as the Wyrm’s corpse gave a shuddering moan and caved in around them.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. The fire</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Here we go!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dia coughed, spitting up white ash. Beside her, Luna was struggling to undo the spider silk that Hornet had used to grab them with. The whole corpse, and the cave it had occupied, had begun to collapse as Luna was inside. Dia had raced in, of course, blasting the debris out of the way. But it had been the little spider who had caught them in her silken threads and pulled them out.</p><p>“Did you know that would happen?” Dia said, looking at the woman.</p><p>Hornet frowned at her. “Obviously not. I had hoped to take the King’s Brand myself, in the future. I didn’t know it could only be given once.” She tore the silk off of Luna and helped it to its feet, pointedly ignoring Dia.</p><p>“Well, regardless…” Dia started. She was not used to the idea of being saved. Gods did the saving, in her day, and she had to remind herself she was no longer a god. “Thank you for pulling us out of there. I don’t think we would have made it without you.”</p><p>Hornet blinked in surprise, then turned away. “I saved Luna. You just happened to be there.” </p><p>Dia repressed the urge to giggle. Luna and its sibling were more alike than she had thought. She got up, dusting off the horrible white flakes. “Well, we had best head out, then. The sooner we can open the Abyss, the better.” She put a hand on Luna’s shoulder. She had not missed the agitation her child had shown, near the Abyss, and she could understand the reasons for its fear. But it had to be done, for the little one to move on. Luna placed its hand on hers and nodded.</p><p>The journey back to the Ancient Basin took more time than she would have liked. Hornet, clearly paranoid about being caught with the most wanted fugitives in Hallownest, led them on an unnecessarily circuitous path. But at last the familiar snail-shell structures of the Ancient Basin came into sight. They entered a large, dark cavern--</p><p>--and jumped, as a stone gate slammed shut behind them, and the lights suddenly came on. Illuminated in the stark brightness was the Pale King, standing before a small army of Kingsmolds.</p><p>“It’s true that the foresight of a Wyrm is not all-seeing,” he said, his voice soft and deadly. “I did not predict your escape, or your arrival at my home. But did you really think you could steal from me, violate my own hallowed form, without me knowing?”</p><p>Hornet let out a low hiss, and the King turned to her. “Yes, girl, I saw you lead them to my old body. I saw the route you would take here. I’m disappointed in you. If nothing else, I had always hoped you were smarter than this.” </p><p>He gestured to the door, which opened a crack. “Leave us, child. I will deal with you later.”</p><p>Hornet didn’t move. Dia could see her fingers clenching and unclenching on the hilt of her needle. After a moment, she said: “Father, let them pass. Your children...they only wish to be reunited. And the Radiance’s power is broken, there’s no need--”</p><p>“The Radiance’s power is unbroken as long as she lives,” snapped the King, and Dia could feel malice in the air. She forced herself not to look at him. “Clearly she’s worked her magic on you. I am inclined to believe that this...foolishness is the result of her influence. She has a powerful pull on those with beastly natures, and bugs with stronger minds have been hoodwinked by her in the past. I will let it pass this time, if you leave now.”</p><p>But he had said the wrong thing, it seemed. At once, Hornet’s hands stopped shaking, and she gripped her needle tight. “Beastly, am I? After all this time, that’s how you think of me? Well, I’m not on her side, but you can bet I’m not on yours either! I’m going to open the Abyss for my siblings, and to make sure that every one of your subjects knows what a ‘beast’ you really are!” She said the words quickly, spitefully, and then stopped with a surprised and somewhat horrified expression on her face.</p><p>The King’s eyes narrowed. “So be it. You are no longer my heir.” And then his eyes flicked over to Luna. Both Dia and Hornet stepped forward slightly, but he didn’t seem to notice. “As for you, my Vessel…”</p><p>“You have done well. Surpassed my expectations, even.” He opened his arms wide, and behind her, Dia felt Luna give a nervous lurch forward. “It was through your ascension that Hallownest was able to prosper, all these long years.” Dia reached for Luna’s hand but the child wasn’t paying attention to her. “And now, you’ve done what I would have thought to be impossible--you brought the Old Light to mortal form. Now, finally, I can end this last great threat to Hallownest. She who killed so many of my subjects, she who would have destroyed this nation for her own selfish desires...she who necessitated the creation of your kind in the first place.”</p><p>Luna’s hand suddenly found hers, gripping so hard it was painful. “I see now the flaw in my thinking with you, child. You are not hollow, and perhaps that is your strength. You are unique, even more so than I could have imagined. You could be my true heir. There is no need for you to die here.”</p><p>Dia wrenched her hand away from Luna’s and stepped forward. “At last, something we agree on,” she said, her voice booming. Then, softer: “Will you let me send it away?”</p><p>Her and the King’s eyes met for the first time. There was some sort of understanding there, buried deep beneath the hate. We were not so different once, Dia thought. Perhaps we can still see each other clearly. After a second, the King nodded.</p><p>(Mother? What are you--)</p><p>She averted her eyes from the child as the Dreamshield burst into life beside it. But this time, it did not float gently in the air. It zoomed directly at the child, striking it in the chest with the flat of the aegis, pushing it backwards towards the door. She could sense the child trying to use magic to push it back, but it was no use: the Radiance had created the Dreamshields from her own mind, and she was their only true master.</p><p>The child’s voice was panicked now. (NO! Mother, stop!) Its fingers scrabbled at the edge of the golden shield as it tried to slip away from it. But thin white threads appeared in the air, wrapping themselves around its hands and binding it to the shield. With one final push, the shield pushed Luna under the crack in the stone door. A fraction of a second later, the door slammed shut.</p><p>“I love you, my child,” Dia whispered, closing her eyes. Only a second’s rest, nothing more.</p><p>She turned to Hornet. “Thank you.”</p><p>“Stop thanking me. I’m not doing it for you!” Hornet snarled. Then her expression softened. “One of my cursed family deserves to be happy. That’s all.”</p><p>“Then I thank you anyway, for our goals are the same.” She couldn’t help a tiny smile from coming to her face. Dia had begun to like this rude little spider quite a bit.</p><p>Hornet almost smiled back. “All the same. Besides, in for a geo, in for a gem, as they say. Father already saw me commit treason. And I...might have said a few rash things, there. So if I’m going to die today...I’ll die brave, like the Moths did.”</p><p>“Maybe. Maybe not.” Dia turned. The Kingsmolds were advancing again. The Pale King no longer stood at the front--clearly, he was content to watch his minions cut them down from a distance. But this wasn’t going to be as easy as he thought. “Get behind me, child. In my shadow. If he wants to kill a god, he’ll have to survive a god’s wrath first.”</p><p>Hornet blinked in confusion, but stiffened at the sight of Dia’s face. She darted behind Dia’s cloak.</p><p>“The light will not fall so easily.” Dia whispered, lifting her staff in both hands. She had failed to cast this spell before, but she was ready now--ready for the sudden pain, the burden on her mortal shell. She closed her eyes and concentrated, not on the world around them, but on the dream she had left behind. She could see herself clearly, a god, and as she pictured it, her shadow grew behind her: a massive dark shape crowned with three sharp spikes...she remembered how it had been when she had banished the Void, the burst of power and light...the god-shadow opened its eyes…</p><p>Just as the Kingsmolds flung their scythes, she released the spell. The pain lanced through her chest, and she could feel the strain on her mortal heart as it tried to keep up with the power coursing through her veins. She didn’t let it stop her this time, and the power turned outward and rushed out. Through half-closed eyes, she could see a wave of golden fire spread outwards from the sphere atop her staff...but the pain was getting more intense...she could feel every beat of her heart as it struggled...her vision grew darker, even as the light became brighter...she could not stop her eyes from closing, or her body from falling to the floor.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. The siblings</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Dreamshield disappeared just as the door slammed shut. Luna wrenched the charm off its cloak anyway, flinging the golden circle into the darkness. (Traitor!) </p><p>It ran back to the stone door, straining to lift it, but it was no use, so Luna set a sunburst on it. The sunburst left an ugly scorch mark with a small dent, but no other change: this door was not some elaborate magical barrier. It was just incredibly thick rock. It amazed Luna that after all the time it had spent recently learning new ways to get through carefully guarded magical doors, it could be stymied by something so simple. But there was no denying the simple fact that it would take far, far too long to burn the door down with the magic Luna possessed. By the time it could force its way through the thick rock, Dia and Hornet would be...would be…</p><p>(No! Don’t think about that!) There had to be something it could do. No matter what Mother wanted, Luna refused to wait idly by while she fought for her life. But Luna knew no magical tricks for breaking through two-foot thick stone, and there was no one to help it: every friend or family member it had ever had was in that room, locked in mortal combat.</p><p>But...no… that wasn’t exactly true. It had...other family members. And now, with the King’s Brand, it had a way of reaching them. Picking up the Dreamshield where it had fallen--it would not leave its mother’s gift there on the floor, no matter how angry it was--Luna ran. It had no map, no memory of the area, but somehow it knew that it would find what it was looking for anyway. Its feet would guide it home.</p><p>The door to the Abyss, marked with the Brand, split in two as Luna approached, and it rushed through the opening. The catwalk hovering over the dark pit was exactly as Luna remembered, and it ran to the edge, falling to its knees to look over the side.</p><p>(Help me!) It couldn’t make out anything in the darkness below: there was no light, no movement. Luna could see the path it had taken to the top, as a child, but it looked as though no one had walked upon it in a long time. The Abyss on the whole appeared abandoned: the only sign that something still lived there was that same whispering sound that Luna had heard outside.</p><p>The whispering was louder in this cavern. It sounded as though Luna stood just above a thousand or more people, who were all softly muttering to each other. Luna tried to call out to them. (Help, please! My mother is going to die!)</p><p>There was no change in the quality of the darkness, but the whispering grew louder. Luna could hear them everywhere, as though they were right next to it, but it still couldn’t make out the words. (Please! I’m sorry I left you! I’m sorry! I tried to come back!) But no one answered.</p><p>“PLEASE!” Luna shouted, its voice ragged and horse. (Please. I can’t understand you...I just...I need help...or she’s going to die...) Thick black tears were dripping down its face as its fingers tightened on the edge of the catwalk. How had everything gone so wrong? Dia was going to die, and it was Luna’s fault for bringing her here…</p><p>A faint smell of burning feathers caught the still air. Luna stiffened: there was an odd feeling of heat spreading across its chest. It looked down, and gasped.</p><p>Something very odd was happening to the Dreamshield. The bits of black Void that Luna had cried had caught on it, and it seemed to have created some sort of reaction. The surface of the charm was hot, and glowing gold, but a darkness was rapidly spreading across it. Then, just as quickly as it had started, it stopped. The glow dissipated, the charm went cold again. And suddenly, Luna could hear voices all around.</p><p>((((((((Join us.)))))))</p><p>The whispering had not changed; rather, something inside Luna had. The new charm--for Luna could tell it was no longer the Dreamshield--seemed to have caused it, and Luna now looked across the cavern with new eyes. The darkness of the Abyss no longer looked empty and still. All through the pit below, Luna could see them: dark, half-formed children, rising from the blackness. Their whispers, which had seemed incomprehensible before, were crystal-clear now.</p><p>((((((((Join us.)))))))</p><p>They wanted to help, but could not. Luna was too far separated from them. If it wanted to ask their aid, it had to do so not as a child of the Pale King or the Old Light, but of the Void. The clothes on its back...the carapace it occupied...those were simply barriers between it and its siblings.</p><p>((((((((Join us.)))))))</p><p>There was only one way to save Dia and Hornet. It was not something Luna could do alone. </p><p>((((((((Join us.)))))))</p><p>Luna grabbed the stolen nail with a shaking hand, and, steeling itself, thrust the blade into its chest as far as it would go. Its shell cracked open, and the blackness inside rushed out to rejoin its siblings at last.</p><p>(((((((Welcome home.)))))))</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>“Few ways a charm appears but mainly it's from final wish, a dying bug's potent desire crystallised into these gorgeous, powerful trinkets.”—Salubra</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. The darkness</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“--ake up! Don’t you dare leave me to deal with this alone!”</p><p>There was a voice in Dia’s ear, a very obnoxious little voice. Dia struggled to place it. A hornet? No, no...a spider. Dia jerked awake. Hornet!</p><p>Dia lay on the ground where she had fallen. She was very much surprised to find herself alive after using that spell; perhaps her mortal form was stronger than she had thought. Her chest ached, and she felt exhausted, but still, she had survived. Hornet was beside her, anxiously pulling on her cloak. She struggled to her feet with the little spider’s help, and looked out at the damage the spell had caused.</p><p>The cavern around them would never be the same: the force and heat of the spell had fused the rock into glass, and the light caught in it and danced all around them. A new wonder, forged by her magic, just as Crystal Peak had once been. Dia noticed, somewhat ruefully, that the door they had entered through--the door she had forced Luna through--appeared to have been soldered to the rock around it. No need to worry about Luna coming back, then: nothing would ever pass through that door again.</p><p>The Kingsmolds had fared poorly. The thirty or so closest to Dia had fallen where they’d stood, their blackened armor abandoned on the glass floor. The Void inside them had been burned away by the same divine magic that had once banished the Lord of Shades. The Kingsmolds that had survived the blast were in disarray: some were missing armor, some were missing limbs, others stood dripping Void on the floor like melting ice cream cones. As she watched, the Pale King soared above them on his glittering white wings. He was surveying the Kingsmolds with dismay.</p><p>“Be prepared to run, girl. I’m ending this now,” she whispered to Hornet, who nodded. Dia then turned to the Pale King. “You want to be a god, little Wyrm? Gods don’t hide behind their lessers. If you want to take this land from me, come down and fight me yourself!”</p><p>It wouldn’t have worked, she suspected, had she not just destroyed so many of his automatons. But the King snarled at her in rage and flew towards her, clearly in a mood for vengeance. His white nail was out and slicing towards her faster than she would have thought possible. She managed to parry it with her staff just in time, but only just.</p><p>“I have done better by this land than you ever did, Old Light,” he hissed, pulling the nail back for another strike. “I gave them minds, brought them progress, and civilization. You would have kept them all in the dark forever...or worse, taken their minds from them entirely. You don’t have the right to walk this land anymore!”</p><p>“Neither of us has the right!” She didn’t dodge that one in time, and felt a sharp pain in her side as the nail sliced through. By the Void, he was fast. “I did terrible things! You did terrible things! Neither of us had the right to treat other beings like that! But we can set things right, still--”</p><p>Another cut drew orange blood. Dia was not going to beat him at a contest of speed. She wanted him to listen, wanted him to realize the same things she had, all those years ago, when she had first met Luna in the dream. But at this rate he was going to tear her to ribbons. If she could not defeat him in speed, she would turn the fight into a contest of strength instead.</p><p>When the next flash of the nail came at her, instead of dodging, she raised her staff between them. The nail sunk into the surface, but for all its sharpness, it could not cut all the way through the magical wood. As the King tried to pull his nail free, she aimed a vicious kick at him, and her more powerful muscles sent the smaller bug flying.</p><p>“Look at what you’ve done!” Dia said desperately as he struggled to his feet. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Hornet and her glittering needle, diving in and out of the crowd of Kingsmolds. She was quick, and deadly, but there were still dozens of them left. “Look at your children, and how they’ve suffered--”</p><p>“They suffered because of you! You think I wanted to sacrifice them? I did what had to be done! Hallownest was too great to fall to some jealous god! And once I’ve killed you, everything will be right again!” He dived at her, and she threw the staff up again. She tried for another kick, but he was in the air now. Clever little bastard.</p><p>She wasn’t going to convince him. It was a miracle that she had seen the light, so to speak, all those years ago. That miracle was not to be repeated. He was not going to have any great revelation here, now, not while he was spitting with rage and so close to striking down his mortal enemy. There would be no reconciliation; if Luna and Hornet were ever to be safe again then the King and his army had to die here. But her body was aching, and she was tired, and slow, and she didn’t think she had the strength left to beat them in combat. Still...even in a mortal form, she had the magic of a god.</p><p>The King attempted to wrench his nail free again, but he could not. The whispering wood of the staff had grown over it, binding it in place, and as he stared at the blade in confusion, she grabbed his wrist. He struggled, but her grip was too strong. His gaze travelled to the orb atop the staff, glowing a deep gold, to the god-shadow growing behind Dia once more, and Dia saw his eyes widen in understanding and fear.</p><p>The Kingsmolds came running at the sound of the King’s call, but they were only placing themselves in the blast zone, too. She would take most of the Pale King’s army out with this attack, and she hoped that Hornet could handle the rest. </p><p>Dia was almost certain that this would be her last spell. She still hadn’t recovered from the last one, after all, and the price for this magic would be great. But still, if it meant Luna would be free...then it was a cost she was prepared to pay. She gripped the King’s wrist as the god-shadow’s eyes opened again.</p><p>“We will pay for our sins together,” she whispered to him. But they never got the chance.</p><p>There was a rumbling from deep below. Suddenly, the door that Dia had fused shut was blasted off its hinges. Dia stared at it in confusion: there was no one there, she could see only darkness through the empty hole. </p><p>And then the darkness opened its eyes. All eight of them.</p><p>Her grip on the King’s hand went slack, and he took off, flying away as fast as he could. Hornet, too, abandoned her attack on the Kingsmolds to flee. Dia did not follow them. She alone had fought the Lord of Shades before, and she knew from experience that it was far too late to run. </p><p>Dia did not know how her ancient enemy had returned, but she did know that none of them were capable of defeating it. The pitiful shadow of the spell she had once used against it might have been enough for Kingsmolds, but her magic was no longer capable of defeating the Lord of Shades. She couldn’t muster the strength to feel fear: dying by the Void’s hands was no better or worse than dying due to her own magic. With half-closed eyes, she watched the blackness spread over them and waited for the end.</p><p>Curiously enough, it did not come. She was bowled over by the sheer force of the darkness as it blazed through the cavern, but she felt none of the burning pain she had remembered from the first fight with the Lord of Shades.</p><p>She opened her eyes. There was darkness surging all around her, but it did not touch her. She was sprawled on the ground in a small cocoon of open air, separate from the Void. The blackness flowed harmlessly away from her as though her body repelled it.</p><p>“What...are you…?” Dia whispered, transfixed. Her hand reached for the darkness, without any coherent instruction from her brain.</p><p>Inside, the Void felt indescribable. It was warm, and cold, soft as silk and hard as glass. It was everything, and nothing. And then, suddenly, she felt something definable, something small and solid. She pulled her arm out to see that she had caught a tiny hand; its stubby fingers wrapped around hers.</p><p>“No…” She pulled, grasping the tiny hand tighter. But a second later, it turned to smoke in her arms. And then bright lights shot through the cocoon of darkness, growing wider as the Void flowed away from her. She blinked in the sudden light of the cavern. The Lord of Shades was gone.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. The light</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The empty armor of the Kingsmolds lay scattered all around them, and the Void that had formed their bodies was gone. As for the King, he was nowhere to be found. Not even as a corpse.</p><p>A few yards away, Dia saw Hornet struggling to her feet. It seemed that she had been spared as well. </p><p>“Hornet!” she called, her voice weak. “Help me up, please! We need to find Luna!”</p><p>Hornet looked as though she might refuse, but thought better of it. She pulled Dia to her feet, and the two stumbled through the hole in the wall the Shade Lord had left. Dia’s legs were shaking with exhaustion, now, but she pushed them onward, through the caverns of the Ancient Basin, towards the place she knew Luna must have gone.</p><p>The door to the Abyss was open. On the catwalk beyond it, lying still and silent and clearly dead, was Luna.</p><p>Dia fell to her knees beside the body. She had known, truthfully, since the second she had grasped that small, familiar hand in the darkness. But, as she reflected for the second time that week, there was a difference between knowing something and seeing the evidence in front of her.</p><p>Luna looked smaller in death. Its hands were wrapped stiffly around its nail, which was buried in its chest. Dia gently unwound its fingers and pulled the weapon free, and to her surprise it came out cleanly, without a trace of black fluid. The Void inside Luna’s body was gone.</p><p>She couldn’t stop the dry sob that escaped her. Beside her, Hornet was standing stiffly, looking away from the body. But Dia leaned down and pulled it towards her, wrapping her arms around the child’s shoulders. “My little one...why…”</p><p>“Wait, what is that?” Hornet’s voice sounded frustratingly even. Dia looked up, and saw she was pointing at Luna’s cloak. Something glinted on its collar where Dia had pinned the Dreamshield, something strange. She wiped orange tears from her eyes, and held it up to get a better look.</p><p>It was the Dreamshield, but altered. It was heavier now, and felt strangely unfriendly, as if she had just picked up a poisonous mushroom or a shard of glass. The bottom half of the charm was stained black, so it looked like the image of a sun setting into a dark lake. She scrubbed at the stain with her thumb, but it wouldn’t come off, and she realized: it was not something that could be removed, but a part of the charm.</p><p> </p><p>                                                                                                                               </p><p>“That thing is...Luna made some kind of charm. I’ve never seen anything like it before,” Hornet said, and Dia didn’t care for the reverent tone in her voice. “A charm made from Light and Void...I wonder what it does. It could be a powerful weapon--”</p><p>“I DON’T CARE!” Dia roared, and before Hornet could stop her, she threw the charm into the Abyss, as hard as she could.</p><p>“What--what have you done?” Hornet snapped. Lithely, she jumped from the catwalk, into the darkness. Dia sighed. Let her find it. Let her use it for whatever she wanted, Dia didn’t have the strength to care anymore. She buried her head in the ruff of Luna’s cloak instead. She remembered, once, the child doing the same thing to her when it had felt lonely.</p><p>Suddenly, a woman’s scream pierced the silence. Dia jerked, and saw Hornet running up the path from the Abyss. “What have you done?” she said again, but now she sounded more afraid then angry. Looking down, Dia saw why.</p><p>The Abyss was, improbably enough, getting darker. The shadowy structures within it--spikes and rocky platforms--were disappearing, as a blackness too deep to reflect light rose around them. Hornet leapt to the catwalk, wrapping a hand around Dia’s arm and pulling her backwards. “Run, old woman, you made it angry--”</p><p>Dia jerked away from Hornet. It was nice, and unexpected, that the woman would try to save her, but Dia was not going to leave. Hornet hissed, clearly afraid, but unwilling to leave her behind. She stood in a crouch on the catwalk, ready to run, or fight. Dia slowly laid Luna’s body down, and stood to meet the Lord of Shades.</p><p>The darkness reared up in front of them, forming itself into discrete structures: a triangular head, long sweeping horns. Its eight eyes opened, and it watched them silently.</p><p>Behind her, Dia could hear Hornet muttering a long string of terrified curse words that would have made a mantis blush. Dia wasn’t afraid: if the Lord of Shades was going to attack, it would have done so already. So she addressed it.</p><p>“Ancient One. We have been enemies before,” she said, extending a hand towards the creature. “But we...we weren’t always. You have been my parent...you have been my child. I am past thinking that I can defeat you, or control you...or even fully understand you. All I ask…” her voice caught in her throat. “All I ask is that you give my child back.”</p><p>For a second, nothing happened. Then, slowly, the great horned head leaned into her hand. Hornet jumped, beside her, but Dia recognized the gesture. Her hand stroked the creature’s head, the same motion she had used a few days ago, stroking Luna’s horns as it fell asleep. Without thinking about it, she opened her mouth, and the moth’s song filled the air. The notes fell softly into the darkness, and the eight eyes closed. </p><p>
  
</p><p>Under her fingers, she could see something emerging through the thick blackness: a faint, rainbow iridescence, like a scar across the creature’s face. As she sang, the colors grew brighter, until they were right at the surface below her fingers. She let the last note of the first verse hang in the air, and then spoke again: “Please.”</p><p>The eyes cracked open, watching her. And suddenly, the creature seemed to burst: it was as though whatever force had held the black liquid of the Void together had suddenly disappeared, and it fell back into the darkness, shapeless and incoherent. </p><p>Beside her, Hornet gasped, and Dia looked down to see that some of the black liquid had landed on the catwalk. Beneath their feet, it moved like a living thing, coalescing and flowing towards Luna’s empty body. Hornet made a movement as if to pick the corpse up, but Dia stopped her. “Let it happen,” she hissed, her eyes fixed on the child’s body.</p><p>The blackness flowed into the empty carapace, back to where it had belonged. Dia’s glowing eyes picked up the subtle changes in darkness as the Void filled in the hole in Luna’s chest, sealing it over with iridescent carapace.</p><p>Though Luna’s mask-like face did not move, though its eyes remained black and empty as ever, Dia could see the moment the change occurred: one second the child was dead, and the next it was alive.</p><p>“Little one!” Dia sank to her knees to hold the child, who was struggling feebly on the floor. Its hands wrapped around her shoulders.</p><p>“Moth...er...I...heard...you…?” Luna’s voice croaked out, sounding confused. (I don’t understand. I was part of something...bigger...but I heard you singing, and then I was here…)</p><p>“It’s okay, little one, it’s over now,” she said, wiping orange tears from her face. “Let’s leave this place.” She grabbed her staff and pulled them both to their feet, moving towards the door.</p><p>Quick as a flash, a silver needle appeared in front of her, blocking the way. Hornet stood beside the door to the Abyss, and she held her needle across it, looking at Dia with an unreadable expression. “Not so fast, Old Light.”</p>
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<a name="section0026"><h2>26. The promise</h2></a>
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    <p>(My name is Luna…)</p><p>(((((((One of us.)))))))</p><p>(...I’m a moth in all but form...I have a mother...I have a sister…)</p><p>(((((((One of us.)))))))</p><p>(No! I’m something else too! I’m…) but Luna’s voice was drowned out.</p><p>(((((((One of us.)))))))</p><p>They were so loud, the siblings, and there were so many of them. Luna struggled to be heard over the din. But it was only one member of the hivemind, and the newest. The others had existed in this form for more than a hundred years and they would not be changed. The siblings had consented to help it, and though Luna’s memories were rapidly growing fainter, it thought that they had. But as soon as the task was completed, the hivemind had begun chipping away at its newest member, trying to integrate Luna into the fold. It felt as though its mind was coming apart, joining the hive. Soon...soon Luna would be gone, subsumed into the mass of minds that formed the Lord of Shades.</p><p>(((((((One of us.))))))) </p><p>What was Luna? There was no Luna, no self, only the siblings together in the darkness...</p><p>And then something changed. A sound cut through the din of the sibling’s chatter, causing them to fall silent. It was a song, familiar, but the hive couldn’t place it. The golden notes broke through the darkness, and the hive had the strange, sudden image of a world very different from the darkness of the Abyss: a world of light, full of golden clouds and lit by the radiance of a familiar creature…</p><p>(((((((Mother…))))))) said the Lord of Shades, as one, as the memory spread through the hivemind. And Luna remembered itself, just as the darkness broke apart, as the siblings let it go.</p><p>And it was back in its own body, the only one inside its mind, and light was streaming through the door of the Abyss as Dia pulled it to its feet. “Moth...er...I...heard...you…?” Luna managed. (I don’t understand. I was part of something...bigger...but I heard you singing, and then I was here…) It didn’t know how to explain.</p><p>“It’s okay, little one, it’s over now,” she replied. Her voice was shaking, and her face was streaked with orange tears. “Let’s leave this place.” They began to walk towards the door, but before they reached it, Hornet’s needle slashed across it.</p><p>“Not so fast, Old Light.”</p><p>Dia’s eyes narrowed. “I thought we were past this, Hornet. Let us leave.”</p><p>“We made a truce, when I was a princess. But now, with Father gone, I’m Queen of Hallownest.” Hornet did not meet Luna’s eyes. Her gaze was fixed on Dia. “I have a responsibility to this country. Next to Father, you are the greatest mass murderer Hallownest has ever known. I know that you’ve changed. I’ve seen you repent. But I can’t let you just walk back out into that country.”</p><p>Luna started to protest, but Dia cut in, her voice low and even. “Will you arrest me, then, your Majesty? Will you bring me before Hallownest’s courts to try me for my crimes?”</p><p>Hornet looked like she might be considering it, for a moment. Then her eyes flicked to Luna, and to the darkness of the Abyss, and she abruptly sheathed her needle. “No. I need to tell the people of Hallownest that their King is gone, and claim the throne myself. You...complicate that.” Luna breathed a sigh of relief. “And while I cannot forgive you for your crimes...I thank you, and honor you, for what you did today. I won’t fight you unless you give me a reason.”</p><p>“But I still can’t let you back into Hallownest. I can’t just let you back into a vulnerable population, not now, when their lives are my responsibility. I want you to leave this land, Old Light.”</p><p>Luna waited for Dia to give some kind of retort, but she sighed. “That’s fair, Queen, and I can respect it. I will do as you ask.”</p><p>(What? No!) Luna tugged anxiously on Dia’s cloak. (This land is your home!)</p><p>“It was my home,” she replied sadly. “But my tribe is gone, and the people left behind are better off without me.”</p><p>“Luna, you...you don’t have to leave,” Hornet started. Her voice had lost the authoritative edge. She sounded almost apologetic. “You are my sibling, after all, and you’ve saved Hallownest. You will always be welcome here.”</p><p>Luna shook its head angrily, but Dia turned to it, taking its hands in hers. “Luna, you can have a home here. You have a sister that cares for you. You could live the life you were meant to. Don’t let me keep you from that.”</p><p>“NO!” Luna shouted, and they both jumped. (You’re my family too! And, and…) </p><p>There was something else, something that had been bothering it since it had been freed from the Shade Lord. It concentrated, trying to figure out how to explain it. (Mother, can you translate for me? This will be too hard to explain out loud, and I want both of you to hear.) She looked confused, but nodded, and Luna began.</p><p>(My siblings are gone. I felt it, as you sang. They’re not here anymore, haunting this place, they’re...at peace. Like in the song.) The siblings, Luna knew, had finally gotten what they had sought for so long: the love of a parent. It chose not to say that; it felt private, like a secret only it and the lost children were meant to know. (But when I was with them...I felt something missing. Do you remember the memory I showed you?)</p><p>Dia nodded, though Hornet looked confused. “The sibling with the U-shaped horns. Did you speak to it?”</p><p>(No. That’s the thing, I couldn’t find it. I could feel all the other siblings, even ones I had never met before. Even ones that had died outside the Abyss. We all shared a mind. But that one...wasn’t part of the hive mind.) Dia cocked an eyebrow, so Luna explained. (I think it means that that sibling never died. It survived the fall, and it's still alive somewhere, otherwise it would have rejoined the Void. And I get this feeling...like it’s not in Hallownest. Like it escaped, and it's out there somewhere, beyond the border.)</p><p>Luna stepped forward, taking Dia’s hands. (I want to find it. The other siblings are at peace, but there’s still so much I need to say to that one. I want to apologize for leaving it...and to thank it for saving my life. So I need to leave Hallownest, too.)</p><p>(All I ask is...will you come with me? To help me find it?)</p><p>Dia laughed, swiping an orange tear from the corner of her eye. “I would like nothing more, little one.”</p>
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<a name="section0027"><h2>27. The beginning, again</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Thank you to everyone who's been reading this! I sure hope you've enjoyed the ride.</p>
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    <p>The tramline ended at the edge of the Howling Cliffs. As the carriage pulled to a stop, Hornet stood. “We go on foot from here.” She gestured to the sentries that had accompanied them. “Give them their packs and wait here.”</p><p>“Your Majesty, are you sure?” The two sentries--a large, foul smelling beetle and a plantlike creature that might have been a Mosskin--stood, but she waved them down. So they reluctantly handed Luna and Dia the two bulging bags and sat back down. Luna looked inside curiously. Fruit pieces crystallized in honey, dried tiktik meat, and spider silk bandages: all the equipment needed for an extended trip to the wilderness.</p><p>“Should we interpret this as a gesture of kindness, or merely an effort to keep us from returning to Hallownest for supplies?” Dia asked dryly. Hornet’s only response was a laugh as she exited the train. Luna helped Dia adjust the pack so it didn’t rub against her wings, and the two of them followed.</p><p>Once they were out of earshot, Hornet spoke again. “You should be so lucky to leave, actually. You have no idea what sort of mess you’ve left me to deal with here. Did you know, that pompous blowhard in charge of the Soul Sanctum has been crawling up my ass for the last few days, demanding I drop everything and fix his issues. Apparently, after our little incident, soul-based magic stopped working all across Hallownest. No more sorcery for the elite, and the so-called Soul Master is furious about it.”</p><p>“What did you tell him?” Dia asked jovially.</p><p>“I said that his performance issues weren’t my fucking problem, and also that the Sanctum was behind on its taxes.” Hornet replied as Dia cackled. Luna thought, not for the first time, that it was a pity that Hornet disliked Dia so much; in another universe, they could have been great friends. They were both rude in exactly the same way.</p><p>“There’s another problem, as well,” Hornet continued, her voice darkening. “People are terrified because of the sightings of some kind of ‘giant black monster’ all throughout Hallownest a few days ago. I would say that it had been the Lord of Shades, but the reports come from places other than the Ancient Basin, and why would the creature have gone anywhere else?”</p><p>Luna froze. Its memories of what it had done as the Lord of Shades were foggy, but it did distinctly recall doing a few things Hornet would likely not approve of. Dia answered airly: “Well, I suppose it simply got turned around on its way back to the Abyss. Eight eyes must make navigation awfully disorientating.”</p><p>Hornet snorted as they climbed the cliffside path. “It must have gotten very disorientated, then, for I have reports of it being seen as far away as the Queen’s Gardens. That’s quite a length away from the Abyss.”</p><p>Neither Luna nor Dia had an answer to that, so Hornet continued. “Speaking of the gardens...it’s quite bizarre, but the White Lady appears to have shut them. She’s grown thorns over every entrance, and is refusing to allow visitors. My last contact with her was her knight Dryya appearing a few days ago, with a request for the type of silk bandages used to treat the injuries of insects. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?” She looked pointedly at the two of them.</p><p>Luna waited in fearful silence for a moment as Hornet’s eyes narrowed. “If I see him again, there’ll be hell to pay, you know.”</p><p>“I suspect the White Lady knows that as well, and will therefore endeavour to keep him on a short leash,” Dia answered warily. “And in any case, you sent the bandages, didn’t you?” A miniscule, almost imperceptible smile touched Hornet’s face at that and she turned, chuckling. Luna breathed a sigh of relief. They walked in silence for a while, Dia stopping once to point out a cave where her brother had once lived.</p><p>Too soon, the tunnels through the cliffs opened, and the edge of Hallownest came into view. It was a strange, lonely place, made of windswept dunes that stretched on into the horizon.</p><p>“Ordinary bugs lose their minds if they walk this desert,” Hornet said. “I suspect it had something to do with the magic Father used to give them sentience. They lose it, when they stray too far from Hallownest. A problem for my guards, but not for me, and obviously not a problem for the two of you.”</p><p>Dia nodded, stepping out onto the sand. Her staff cast a cheery pink glow in the darkness. Luna moved to follow, but Hornet held out a hand to stop it, and stared at the larger bug with an odd expression. After a moment, she surprised Luna by taking it into a tight hug.</p><p>“You are always welcome here, sibling,” she whispered. “If you find our lost family member...please, bring it back.”</p><p>“I can wait outside,” Dia added helpfully.</p><p>“She can wait outside,” Hornet allowed, rolling her eyes. “Stay safe out there.”</p><p>Luna nodded. Ahead, Dia reached out a hand, and Luna stepped forward to take it. (Let’s see the world together.)</p><p>Dia smiled. “I can’t wait.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And that's a wrap! I'm thinking about a sequel in the future where they find the Knight and Grimm but before I write it I want to know more about the canon world outside Hallownest...which means it won't happen until after Silksong comes out.</p><p>Also, I know the "fuck PK crowd" (and I see you, I love you, I am one of you, radiance bless) will be a little upset that PK survived this fic. I went back and forth over that for a while, because I wanted Luna's LoS to be the deciding factor in the final battle. I came to the conclusion that yes, I did want PK to die, but I didn't want Luna to have to be the one to do it, bc it was just traumatizing them further. So PK now resides in the Queen's Gardens, beaten up, dethroned, and depowered (as the nameless tribe's magic is now gone). And hey, being defeated and confined to a small space with a family member for an indefinite amount of time did wonder's for Dia's moral compass and mental health, so maybe PK will come out a better person.</p>
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<a name="section0028"><h2>28. Intermission (part 2)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Ok, yes, so I was totally done with this fic, all wrapped up until the sequel, but last night I was doodling and thought: "bUt whAT IF tHey Were PeoPLe?" And I made this and thought I'd post it at the end. Now we're done (until Silksong anyway) I swear.</p>
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